Kerry's Awake
by danrac
Summary: A little salt and burn to keep Dean busy, that's all it was supposed to be.. not a demon willing to kill the both of them....not Dean wondering how he'd left his brother injured and alone.. no, not alone, with her.. Hurt!Turned?Sam Set post season 2/pre 3
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is the first SN fic I wrote, and while I don't like it quite as well as the two others I have posted here, I think it can still make for an interesting read. I hope some of you will hope so too. It was written in the summer between season 2 - 3 and is set in that time frame, no spoilers for any particular episode but it assumes you know the plot line through AHBL2. Here we go.....

And alas, I'm still just taking the impala for a spin, don't own a darn thing.

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PROLOGUE:

"Ahhh......... He's not gonna wake up, Dean."

"What?!?"

Dean stared at his cell phone for a moment as if it had somehow caused the nonsensical words tumbling from Bobby. "No, no, no, that's not possible... I'll do whatever it takes, Bobby. Hell, I've already done whatever it takes. All of this can't have been wasted, not like this. He has to be fine. We've been through worse. He has to be fine; it's all that matters. He has to be....

As Dean trailed into silence, Bobby got the distinct feeling he had forgotten the open phone line. He exhaled a long pent up breath. "Okay, look, maybe I do know someone who can help you."


	2. Chapter 2

Dean flicked his eyes over the red glow fading into ashes, satisfied that no uncharred bone remained. He flipped the remaining casket lid down and nodded at his brother. Sam reluctantly picked his chin up off the grip of the long handled shovel where he had been dozing and began to help Dean fill the grave back in.

By first light, they were walking back through the motel door, standard argument over the first shower in full swing.

"Fine, since you're the walking wounded, you can go first," Sam sighed. "Of course, that smudge on your shoulder could just be dirt."

Dean debated whether a comment was worthwhile. "Probably take all the hot water to get it off then."

Sam smiled when the heard the water turn off only a few minutes later. It had been a long time since three consecutive hunts had come off with only the two inch bruise purpling on Dean's shoulder. Sam was putting away the thankfully unnecessary first aide kit he had arrayed on the table earlier when Dean emerged, pulling a grey t-shirt down to meet boxers.

"All yours Sammy."

"It's Sam."

"Umm hmm, right Sammy."

Dean plonked down on the bed next to the door, asleep before he even completed the motion.

_So much for getting to sleep before the snoring starts,_ thought Sam. He hadn't really intended to sleep anyway. It had been a month since Dean made his deal. While that supposedly meant Sam had eleven months to figure it out, he had a feeling his timeline ws going to be shorter than that. The Hell's gate demons were elusive so far, but sooner rather than later, they were sure to show up. When that happened, Dean would be equally sure to go after them and Sam's research time would be gone. Sam had to know Dean wasn't going to die for him before that. _If I can just keep him busy with straight forward hunts while I figure this out._

Sam was still mulling this plan over when he turned the shower on for himself, but by the time he walked back into the small bedroom, he couldn't keep his eyes open. He pulled the curtains tight against his new plan to sleep for a week. He didn't want it ruined by something as mundane as daylight.

Dean tensed, then opened green eyes to search out the motel clock. Noon. It took half a second to remember that he gone to bed at six-thirty am and the other half to recognize what awakened him. Sam.

"Jeeze, Sam," he muttered, sitting on the side of the bed and running both hands over his face. "Noon's kind of a funny time for a nightmare, even for you."

"Sam, Sam, hey.." Dean slid to his knees between the two beds. His hand went to Sam's shoulder just as Sam thrashed his arm upward, nearly connecting. "Hey, it's ok, wake up."

Dean felt Sam's shoulder relax and the lanky formed stilled. Sam automatically pushed errant strands of brown hair out of his eyes before opening them, then turned to face Dean.

"Why'd you wake me up?"

"What?"

"You woke me up."

"Well yeah, Sam. Figured they'd charge us room damages if I just let you shred the blankets."

Sam grunted. "Like you'd pay. Not a nightmare, Dean, just a dream. Which, by the way, you ruined."

Rolling his eyes, Dean pulled on faded jeans. "Right, not a nightmare." He decided not to comment when it took Sam the third try to untangle the sheets enough to stand. "I'll be back in half an hour with lunch. And try to find us some work to do, huh?"

_Terrific,_ Sam thought. _My week of sleep lasted all of five hours._


	3. Chapter 3

A/N:Thanks to everyone who started this one out with me. Hope you enjoy the next chapter, the main action of the tale doesn't really start here, but I decided to leave it in.

CHAPTER 3

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Two cheeseburgers, a bag of onion rings, and four cookies later, Sam thought he might have picked something up_. Other than salmonella, that is_...

"Four deaths in the same elemetary school in six months. All of the children were eight or nine years old, they all knew one another, and they were all found in a cave," Sam explained to Dean, looking over the computer screen.

"A cave, Sam?" Dean asked. "As in in the woods cave?" _Damn stupendous, more camping._

"No, actually. Cave's a loose term here, the news pictures look more like an outcropping and it's right behind the school grounds. Sorry you'll miss out on the Grizzly Adams thing, though."

"Whatever. We can leave in the morning. I'm going to check on her and restock supplies, you dig out some details on those kids."

Sam chuckled under his breath as Dean went out the door toward the gravelled parking lot. Only he could use the phrase check on her to mean tuning up the car.

Both of them made an early night of it; Dean having pretty much exhausted the local supply of pool suckers a few days back; but he was once again awakened by Sam's tossing and turning on the opposite bed. This time he decided to wait a few minutes before waking him, remembering Sam's denial earlier in the day. Maybe Dean had jumped to conclusions about it being a nightmare. _Goodness knows the kid has enough of them, always has,_ he thought. His eyes adjusted to the faint light and he stared at his restless brother. _No, not his usual nightmare face. Eyebrows are wrong._

Well, whatever it was, it certainly didn't look what you'd call peaceful. Dean decided to wake him up. "Sam? Sam, wake up."

Sam opened his eyes and took his own turn to seek out those glowing green numbers. Five fifteen AM. He blearily spotted Dean sitting on his own bed, propped against the headboard. "Dude, didn't we do this scene already today?" he murmured.

"What gives Sammy?" Dean tried to sound curious, not concerned_. Something pretty much always gives with Sam_, Dean mused, _and it usually isn't safe to ignore._

"Nothing."

Sam sat up, swinging his feet to the floor, elbows coming to rest on his knees. "Well, not nothing, I guess, but.... Just with everything that's gone on it seems unimportant...." Sam's eyes finally left the spot between his feet and went to Dean's face, although he never raised his head. Dean thought he saw a hint of embarrassed smile. "It's sort of a girl."

Not the answer Dean expected.

"A girl? We've been here for days and the only place you've been without yours truly is the shower, and I sure didn't see you with a girl. So unless you've found a mermaid, where'd you meet her?"

"That's just it, I didn't meet her. Every time I close my eyes this past week I see her, but I don't think I recognize her." Again the half smile. "She's pretty, Dean. Long chestnut hair, indigo eyes, keeps looking for me... "

"Yeah, I get it, dream girl is gorgeous." Dean's hands ran their familiar pattern over his face again. "Look, obviously we're both up for the duration, so I'm going to hit the shower. Might as well get an early start. And, Sam - no early night tonight. If you're down to inventing pretty girls, you need a night on the town, not a nap."

Sam began loading his duffel bag with last of his clothes that could even charitably be called clean. "Not every date begins with a girl in a bar, Dean," he called.

"The non-imaginary ones do, Sammy," drifted back through the now closed bathroom door.

The trip south was uneventful, the 1967 impala taking the back roads into Texas hill country. Dean, driving as usual, was blaring one of his archaic tapes. Sam thought it might actually vibrate the laptop off its perch on his knees.

"So aren't there supposed to be bluebells or something?" Dean asked

"No, it's blue bonnets, and they bloom in April, not August," Sam replied without looking up.

"Exactly how much useless information is taking up space in that head of yours, Sam?"

"You're the one that brought up flowers, man."

Dean tried again to start a conversation with his distracted little brother. "So all found in caves, hmm?"

"A cave, yes."

"Anything different about the four?"

"All frozen. First girl had ankle fractures, too."

"Wasn't the last one a week ago?" Dean shook his head as he asked; this was like pulling teeth.

"Yeah, last week." Sam still didn't look up, keys clicking away, almost as if he were working on something else.

"It was ninety-five degrees last week."

Sam sighed and pointedly closed the laptop. "Yup, ninety-five degrees."

It was too early to check into a motel as they arrived in town, so they went by the only diner to unearth the local gossips' take on the deaths. It seemed the first girl, Kayla had been a timid child, the others fell more into a bully category. The local authorities were still trying to pass it off as dying of exposure, and about half the town still seemed willing to buy that. For the rest, however, that had gotten harder to swallow as the summer heated up. Even the nights were sultry.

They had just finished driving to the school, an ugly 1920's pseudo gothic affair with an incongruently shiny chain link fence, and were walking back from the small outcropping where the children had been found. Whatever had been bothering Sam earlier seemed to have passed and he was back to his nomal ongoing chatter. "Some of the locals seem to think the other three little angels left Kayla here. That was last February, so she may well have died of exposure if she couldn't walk back on the broken ankles or got lost, " Sam concluded.

Both of them lapsed into silence a moment at that, knowing they were having the same thought. Even at age eight, neither of them would have failed to find their way the third of a mile to the school, ankle fractures or no. A directed by John Winchester childhood had made sure of that.

Dean checked them into the only motel in town right after a quick dinner. The place was every bit as stereotypical as the red vinyl boothed diner had been. He idly wondered if there was an international ordinance requiring panelling and two toned shag carpet under a set room rate. Conversation naturally turned back to the hunt at hand. "Kayla seems awfully young for venegeful spirit material, but other than that it all makes sense," Dean said. _How old was I when the murderous ghost of an eight year old became plausible? Six? As old as seven maybe?_

"So how is she luring children to the cave? Or making them stay there? I've never heard of the cold associated with a spirit actually freezing someone solid, " he continued.

Sam thought about his reply for a moment. "I'm not sure the answers to the first two matter all that much, but the third point is certainly relevant as a safety concern. Do you want to try to sort it out over a few days or stick with salt and burn tonight as originally planned?"

Dean pursued his lips, "Stick with the plan, I think. We don't really know if any other kids were involved in her death and she seems to be picking up speed lately."

Four hours later, the town sidewalks were proverbially rolled up and the hunters were taking shovels out of the trunk, crossing the small church cemetery. It took almost an hour of digging before Kayla made her first appearance.

At first Sam thought he had simply kicked up a little soil with the shovel as a walnut sized stone banged against his shin. Then several other small stones and dirt clods decided that this was their big chance to escape earth's gravity well and became airborne too. The hits stung, but nothing more than that. Sam had also noted that Dean was having a similar problem, and had put down his shovel in favor of the shotgun. Sam saw him circling behind the tombstones, trying to find the culprit. Sam knew he should keep digging.

"Owww. Shit."

Sam wheeled around just in time to see the a tennis ball sized stone hit the ground at Dean's feet. Dean had a hand on his left cheekbone, a trickle of blood slipping down his cheek. A second large stone bounced off his knee. Sam started to go to his brother, but Dean waved him off.

"No," he called. "I'll find her, but do you mind digging a little faster?"

Less than a minute later, Sam heard the rock salt loaded shotgun fire. Dean was back at his side almost immediately. "I'm going to keep watch - she knows what we're doing now and that blast won't keep her gone long."

Sam nodded, grateful Dean didn't look too much the worse for wear. He was just about through anyway.

Unfortunately, Kayla was back ten minutes later, this time appearing right beside of Dean. Before he could even register her presence, she caught his right wrist in her much smaller hand. Dean had two thoughts at once. First, there was nothing ethereal in the solidity of that grip. Secondly, his arm was painfully turning to ice. The shotgun fell from numb fingers.

"SSaaamm!"

Sam had actually heard the absence of his brother's pacing a split second before Dean yelled. He was already running toward the struggling pair, .45 out of the waistband of his jeans, but angling toward the dropped sawed off.

Dean thumped heavily to his knees, then ended up sitting flat on the ground. He was facing away from Sam now and Kayla had wrapped her other arm across his throat, pulling him back against her. Everywhere she touched felt as if the blood was freezing in his veins. He couldn't seem to dislodge her at all. _This is so not what a spirit is supposed to do.. _"And I was just starting to miss you, thought you were making this whole affair a little humdrum," he mouthed off at her. This was starting to hurt like a son of a bitch.

_"_S-SS-SSaaammmm...."

Sam hastily traded one weapon for the other, scooping the shotgun up without slowing down. Once he closed the last ten feet, however, he almost skidded to a halt. Dean was taking on the same blue-grey hue as Kayla's ghost. The ghost that had just managed to twist around and maneuver Dean directly into Sam's line of fire.

Sam's eyes never left what should have been Kayla's as he started to warily circle left. _Don't look at Dean, don't look at Dean, don't look at Dean...._ Peripheral vision was more than enough to tell him Dean was no longer trying to free himself. Standoff.

"Still with me Dean?" Sam's voice was soft, reassuring, but his expression decidedly was not. Dean wasn't the only one who could be fiercely protective.

"SSS-sttttii-lll."

Sam realized that Dean had begun to violently shake. He had to get Kayla off him before he was just as frozen as the dead children. _So, two options. I can finish salting her, which is going to take a few minutes, or I can buy a little time and shoot her now. Which means shooting Dean, too. _Sam desperately did not want to do that. Not again.

"Dean, listen - I'm almost through that coffin lid. You got two minutes in you?"

"SS-sure, Sssaa-mm-mm."

Sam didn't miss the weakening voice or lolling head.

"You sure?"

"Ssure. GGG-gg-go."_ Like pretty sure._ "H-hh-uurry."

Sam started back to the grave site at a dead run, jumping down onto the white casket lid. He swept another shovel of dirt aside and frantically splintered the latch, pulling the lid open. The form within was still identifiably wearing lilac pajamas with matching lilac ribbons on the end of long pigtails._ The little coffins are always the hardest_. Sam shook off the thought and rapidly poured the salt and an overly generous amount of gasoline. Once he saw the blaze catch, he turned back to Dean.

Kayla was gone. Dean still sat slumped backwards where Sam had left him. Sam picked up his running pace another notch when he realized it was exactly where he had left him. Dean hadn't made any effort to move at all.

Sam dropped down beside him, starting to reach a hand toward Dean's neck when he saw telltale slight shiver. He let out the breath he was holding. "Ok Dean, lets get you warm. You're all blue on me here, not sure it's your color, definitely not with this shirt..." Sam was vaguely aware he was rambling as he hooked his arms under Dean's and started to drag him toward the flames. "Kayla got you into this, she can just help get you out of it, too."

Sitting on the ground behind Dean, it wasn't lost on Sam that pretty much this same seating arrangement with Kayla's spirit was what had caused the problem in the first place. The fire was meager now and not one Sam would generally choose to sit by anyhow, but it was working. If he could just get Dean warm enough that he didn't have to worry about making the ten minute drive back to the motel. Dean did seem to be relaxing back against him a bit, so not as stiff. The shivering was picking up too. Sam knew this was a good sign - Dean's body was once again trying to heat itself.

"SS-ammm? I th-think I'mm th-thawed now, mm-maybe even mm-mediummm r-rare."

Sam shook his head. "Are you ok?"

"Mm'fine, Ss-saamm-my."

_Of course._

"What was that you said earlier, Dean? Heaven help you if you really think this has gotten humdrum." The words were out before Sam realized how they sounded.

"I d-don't think heaven has much to do with Dean Winchester, Sammy, " Dean whispered.

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A/N : You know, that last line has a different feel to it now than when I wrote it fall 2007. I considered tweaking this story for the direction the series has taken since then, but I decided to leave it alone. Everyone will just have to turn their brain back a few pages, lol. I have another tale I'll be posting soon with the same problem. I'd love to hear from you!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I'm not convinced this fic is going well reader-wise particularly, but it is complete, so I suppose I may as well post it. As I think I mentioned, it was the first fanfic I did in '07 and I think the later ones are better, but this one heats up over the next few chapters and hopefully a few folks will give it a chance. Thanks so much to those of you I heard from, I should be able to answer reviews late tonight or tomorrow and I appreciate the feedback more than I can say. Now - back to thawing out Dean. Oh, still don't own a thing.....

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CHAPTER 4

Dean sat on the end of his bed, finally warm after Sam steered him into a soak in the tub instead of his usual short shower. The spot on his cheekbone only took three stitches, which Sam had already completed, and his coloring was almost back to normal. His only concern was on wrist, where he had some minor frostbite. The area wasn't large and was likely to heal fine, but it was a bit hard to explain in the Texas summer. Oh well, certainly wouldn't be the first injury he'd hidden or lied about.

Sam had a few bruises from the flying rock circus, but nothing impressive by Winchester standards. Dean had insisted on inspecting these, of course, overruling Sam's lecture on potential limb loss from frostbite being their larger concern with a glare. In the end, though, even Dean had to admit Sam appeared to be fine.

They slept well into the morning, finally leaving the room when the call of coffee won out over any further sleep. The afternoon was spent back at the diner, Dean flirting equally with both waitresses and Sam trying to force an answer out of the laptop about freezing spirits. Kayla may have been toast, but curiosity about the phenomenon just wouldn't go away. A simple spirit shouldn't have been able to freeze anyone and Sam couldn't let it go, even with the job done. Eventually he pushed it away, disgusted at the lack of information. "Nothing that looks like a new hunt either."

Dean nodded. It was only about three o'clock and Sam was now trying to get him to drive over to something called Enchanted Rock. "You go and see the sights, Sammy. I think I saw a place with pool tables just down from the motel ."

Sam shrugged and decided maybe he could let Dean out of his sight for a few hours. _This getting back to normal thing is hard. _Besides, the pool hustling often went better if Dean was alone. Pool for Dean wasn't a way to goof off afterall, it was financial survival. "I'll meet you back in the room at eight with some dinner."

"Oh no, Sam. I meant that about not having an early night. Meet me at the bar at eight and we'll grab a bite there.

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Dean sat down at the table almost the minute Sam arrived, sensing his presence through the crowd. Sam noted last night's work made Dean look like he'd been bar brawling. _Wonder what load of melarky he explained that with? _"So how'd you do?"

"Hey, it's me we're talking about. Let's just say we're the only people here right now with any spare cash." Dean smirked. "Although we may want to keep an eye on that blonde guy over there - sore loser."

Sam's eyes trailed over to the bar and collided with a small mountain. "Perfect, you got someone who probably keeps Babe the Blue Ox as a pet pissed at you."

"Nah, Paul Bunyan was smaller. Besides, he's not pissed at just me, it's gonna be at us. Not like he doesn't see you sitting here with me." Dean grinned.

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Fortunately, the mountain went home without an attempt to recoup his money and both brothers were back at the motel around midnight. Dean propped himself against his headboard, clicking through the TV channels, aware that Sam had already fallen asleep. The night was sticky even with the window air conditioner cranked up. Dean hated running the things wide open at night; it really limited what you could hear. He did, however, manage to hear Sam's breathing quicken a bit as he began to fidget in his sleep. "I'm here," he heard softly from the other bed.

"Great, just great. Now he's talking to her, " Dean sighed. "Personally, I thought some of the chicks in the bar were hotter than the dream queen, Sam." Dean checked again that the door was bolted and that his hunting knife was in its usual spot under his pillow. _Just turn off the light already and sleep already for pete's sake...._

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Dean had been asleep for a few hours when he heard a soft creak as Sam walked over from the small kitchenette by the door. _Peachy, maybe dream girl snacks as well as searches for Sammys now._ He started to roll over, then realized that inspite of his six foot four inch frame, Sam's footfalls never made that much noise. A quick glance under half raised lids confirmed Sam was still in his bed. Dean slowly focused the other direction, seeking out the faint line of light seeping around the door. It was closed, but no longer bolted. He kept his eyes to slits, shifting his hand to the knife handle.

A darker shadow in the dark room hesitated a moment at the foot of the beds, then turned slightly toward Sam's. Dean sprang without any hesitation of his own, spinning their guest down onto his bed, ending with his knife at her throat and one knee on her chest. He was somewhat surprised to find himself towering over a petite raven-haired girl, perhaps seventeen or eighteen, who met this turn of events with a fierce challenge in her eyes.

"Ah, Dean, honey, I appreciate the offer, but I'm afraid I really did come to see Sam this time. I'll certainly keep you in mind though, love."

Dean took a closer look at the black jeans and low cut dark blouse, the smile that was more predatory than anything else. Although she had used his name, he had no idea who she was. Or perhaps more accurately what. "What the hell do you want?" he hissed. His free hand reached behind him to turn on the bedside lamp.

"What, no introductions, no offer for coffee? Really, Dean, you have no manners at all. If I wasn't so busy tonight I might bother to teach you some."

"Like to see you try. Now I asked you, what do you want?" Dean was stalling a little, deciding what to do next and wondering how in the world Sam was sleeping through an altercation going on four feet from his bed. Admittedly, Dean normally took the watchdog role, but Sam should be awake. He had to find out why he wasn't. Dean had been so sure he had awakened as soon as she came in the room, but was he wrong? Had she done something to Sam first? He eased backward slightly, deftly switching the knife to his left hand so that he could pick up his gun from the nightstand with his right. Once he had it, he returned both feet to the floor and motioned with the barrel for her to sit up.

Instead she curled seductively on the bed, lips pushed into a fake pout. "Looks like I'll have to make time to teach you after all."

With that Dean found himself setting both gun and knife back down. _What the hell?_ He sat on his bed and leaned against the headboard again, having had absolutely no intention of doing so. He watched her sit up, legs curled beneath her, both palms now flat against his chest as she lightly pushed him back. She leaned in and kissed him, then pulled back, locking her eyes on his.

The purr in her voice surprised him. "As to what I want, that's easy. Sam."

"No." Not a threat, simply a fact from Dean's point of view. His currently immobile circumstances didn't change that. _Nobody gets near Sam. Nobody...never again....please tell me she didn't already. Please. _He managed to turn his head just enough to see Sam's sleeping form. Saw the steady rise and fall of the sheet, the calm expression. Closed his eyes for just a second in relief.

"Sorry, but I need you to be still, hon, makes it easier for me."

Dean felt whatever was holding him tighten its grip. He couldn't have turned his head again for anything, but at least he could still see Sam. "And why would I make anything easier for you?" he managed to grind out between clenched teeth.

"Jealous?" she cooed, crossing to sit on the edge of Sam's bed. "Don't be like that, sugar. Actually you helped me once already, rather a lot, if I do say so. That's why you're going to survive this little adventure. I do always so appreciate a gentleman out to help little ol' me. Maybe I'll even do you a favor sometime, settle our score, so to speak. Unless you want to sleep through this as a reward? Not have to watch me with your precious little Sam? You're being a very irresponsible babysitter, Dean. Didn't Daddy tell you to keep him away from girls like me?" A pause. "So, you want that nap?" Her chuckle made Dean's skin crawl.

"Keep away from him!" _Whatever is about to happen, I'm not leaving you alone Sam. I'm right here, right here..._

"I take it that's a no. Oh well, I kind of had you figured for a like to watch guy anyway. Glad you didn't disappoint me. Shush, now."

With that Dean found he couldn't force out another word. The amount of movement it took to simply breathe was an effort, but it couldn't crowd out the clenched panic in his stomach for Sam.

She pulled the sheet to the foot of the bed, appreciative of the warm night that had led Sam to sleep only in boxer shorts. She trailed a finger from curve of his jaw to his navel, biting her lip. Sam stirred for the first time, eyebrows pulling together as he retreated further back into his pillow. Before he could move any farther, she swung a leg over, straddling across his hips. Her hands pressed down on collarbones and she sighed, a deep throaty sound. "Oh my, Sammy, are you shy even in your sleep? It really is too bad we have business to take care of tonight, corrupting you could be such a lot of fun. But sleep now, love, I only want to show you something."

Sam stilled immediately as she moved a hand to his forehead, tracing her fingers through the edges of his hair. In other circumstances the gesture might have been tender, here it approached obscene. She stared for long minutes, watching the quickening pace under his closed eyelids. "That's right, Sam, good boy. Now, I think we're ready."

She began to mumur something low and a slim dagger appeared out of a sleeve. Blade the width of pencil, but four or five inches in length. The hilt was a copper cross, carved in a pattern neither hunter would have recognized.

She was momentarily distracted by Dean's sharp intake of breath at the appearance of the knife. "Oh, I'd forgotten you were there." She took in his rapid breathing at a glance, the slight tremble to his hands, the faint sheen of sweat. She saw his fear, but didn't know him well enough to recognize his building fury. "Easy, Dean, I'm not going to hurt him much. At least not yet." She cocked an eyebrow with a laugh and tucked her hair behind an ear before turning back to Sam.

The point of the blade traced a fine line from behind Sam's left ear to the hollow at base of his throat. Nothing more than the faintest of scratches. She seemed lost in her mumblings, a slight breeze starting to stir within the room as her tempo increased. It was a sublte feeling, that hint that a storm is just about to brew. As soon as she felt it coalesce, the dagger moved, a lightning vertical slash that filled hollow of Sam's throat with blood.

_No, no, no, no!_ Dean's body may have been forced into stillness, but his mind continued to pick up steam. _Sam! I will kill the bitch! Get away from him! Samm!_ Dean forced himself to calm down, trying to gauge the speed of the blood flow. _Vertical, probably didn't get any major arteries... Deep enough to get into the trachea, though? Don't think so... Not bleeding that fast....Said she wouldn't....No! _Maybe this wasn't the life ending gash he had feared.

"Don't worry Dean, sweetie, I didn't kill him. I mean, where's the fun in a dead Sammy so soon. Awww, that's right you didn't think it was fun last time either, wallowing around in all that mud. You know, I've decided I don't want an audience for this after all." Her fingers gave a vague flick and Dean felt himself forcibly moved toward the room door. "Go. Now!"

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TBC

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A/N - so, finally getting toward the meat of the matter... Review? Pretty please?


	5. Chapter 5

A/N - Don't own twiddle dee dee - who'd o' thunk it...... So, another chapter, things are warming up, literally... and a little language warning, cause Dean's a wee bit peeved.

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CHAPTER 5

Dean sat gripping the steering wheel with every ounce of strength he had. His fingers almost didn't shake if he held on tight enough. He allowed gaze to wander over the passenger seat of the car again, this time keeping his face forward as if he could somehow sneak up on the view. Nope. Same as before. The front seat was strewn M & M wrappers, perhaps twenty coffee cups, a dozen gas receipts, twice as many tape cases, even a third of a doughnut. In fact, it was littered with all the trappings of an insomniac roadtrip with Dean Winchester but one. The most important one -his brother. _Where are you, Sam? Better yet, where am I?_

He could see he'd been travelling a few days by the look of the car, but Dean had only become aware of that tidbit five minutes earlier. He'd pulled off on the shoulder of a four lane highway, it was just about sun down, and he had no idea where the thunder he was. The last thing he could clearly remember was glancing over his shoulder at Sam in their motel room; that...that...well, that whatever she was still leaning over the younger hunter, warm blood running off his neck to stain the pillow. He'd seen a flash of huge dark wings and talons, but when he'd tried to focus it was gone, almost a child's nightmare flicker that turns out to be something quite ordinary in better light. He'd blinked his eyes and once again saw only the dripping blood and the horrible girl. Then his own feet had betrayed him and shoved him out the ricketedy door.

_Think, Winchester. The last place we stayed was just north of Fredricksburg, Texas, but which way did I drive from there? How far? I am so going to kill that bitch. _Dean raked his fingers through his hair, then settled for rubbing his eyes. A perusal of the receipts in the car told him he'd been heading north, the date stamps told him it had been two days. Unfortunately, it looked like he hadn't made much of a straight line. His cell phone was no help at all, no messages from Sam, no evidence of out going calls either. At least he only had to drive a few minutes to come across an interstate sign. He was on I 80W just outside Kearney, NE. _Damn. Almost a thousand miles from where I was. How could she have done this? _Dean couldn't believe he left his brother, no matter what the situation. _If you thinks I'm just gonna give you Sam, you doesn't know squat about me. I'm not exactly a take the interstate rat race guy, witch, and I so don't use the front seat of my baby for a trash can._ _You_ _sent me north, the first step is to get headed south. Nope, you don't know shit about Winchesters now, but you're gonna learn..._

Dean had gone a half hour in the other direction, determined to find his brother, willing him to be alive when he did; when he realized he had no actual reason to think Sam was lost. Yeah, Sam had gone missing before, even took off by choice a time or two, but it was Dean who had done the leaving this go around. Maybe Sam was right where he left him. The comfort in this thought evaporated almost before it could register, however. There was no way Sam was going to sit in a motel room with no idea where Dean had gone or what happened to him and not even pick up the phone. _No, if Sam is still in that room it's because I left him there to die. If he's there, he's dead._

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It took fewer hours than it should have to find himself back in Hill Country. He was exhausted, shaking, as he pulled back into the gravel lot, but he had to know. He walked up the three stairs to the sidewalk and paused outside the door to their room, forehead leaning against the wood, listening for any sound within. _You said you didn't kill him. Please... Please._

Fear for his brother wanted to push him in through that door just as involuntarily as he'd been pushed out, but a lifetime of training kicked in. He looked at the door and window, gun nestled in his hand, waiting. Nothing amiss. Not a sound from inside. A careful perusal of the door knob found it still not bolted, a silly paper do not disturb sign dangling. Dean held his breath as he opened the door.

What met his eyes was hard to take in. Cheap panelling splintered randomly along the walls, plaster on the ceiling cracked and flaking loose, the kitchen counter splint in two and water soaking the torn carpet. Sam's laptop was still visible beneath the overturned table, his smashed cell phone beside it, their clothes and bags strewn about. And then there was Sam's bed...

The sheets had been shredded, long claw marks gouging into the mattress, coiled springs clearly visible. The blood had made it off the now missing pillow, a branch of the large russett stain meandering down to the boxspring. But no Sam. His brother was gone. _That's ok,_ _it's ok_,_ come on now, there was only one way I was gonna find him here..._ Dean crammed the duffel bags as quickly as he could, desperate to get out of the ruined room before he was sick. He might need to rest somewhere, but it sure couldn't be here, or today. _What are you doing to him? _

_I'm coming Sammy, wait for me. Just a little longer, ok? Don't you go anywhere, kiddo._ _Please. _

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Twelve hours later, Dean had asked everyone in a fifty mile radius if they'd seen Sam. The question was met with varying degrees of concern or annoyance, but the answer didn't change. No one had seen the tall young man in the picture, or a teenage girl with long raven hair, for that matter. They hoped the nice policeman found them soon. The nice policeman, meanwhile, was worried out of his mind as he tucked the fake ID away amongst all the others.

Dean didn't want to admit he had no idea where to look next, but it was time to put that aside and see if anyone could help. Besides, he had agreed to tell Bobby and Ellen if anything unusual happened after the four of them split up in Wyoming. This certainly qualified. Sighing, he pulled out the phone.

"Bobby."

"Yeah, Dean. What's wrong?" The gruff voice had clearly been pulled from sleep.

"Sam. He's ah, well.. He's gone and I... No, actually, I was gone, but then I figured out I was in Nebraska, so I came back for him, but...."

"You're not making a lick of sense, son." _Hell, _Bobby thought,_ it may be easier to survive the Hell's gate demons than a friendship with the Winchesters. _" 'Sam's gone' never seems to turn out all that well, so why don't you start over and tell me what's going on."

Dean took a breath and started from the beginning, including Kayla's spirit and the freezing incident, Sam's recent dreams, and the devastation left behind at the motel.

"So basically," Bobby rasped, "Sam decided to play sleeping beauty while some homicidal teenybopper slit his throat, and then you abandoned ship"

"Don't you think I know that?!!"

Bobby was very glad in that moment this conversation was taking place through a phone. His summary might have been reasonably accurate, but no one could have missed the shift in Dean's voice from worry to rage, yet somehow in the middle of the night Bobby forgot that Dean wasn't the ten year old he used to keep for John. Truth be known, when it came to protecting Sam a smart man would have been afraid of Dean then, too.

"All right Dean settle down. I know you didn't leave him by choice. It's time you started knowing that, too. Describe that dagger again?"

"Silver blade, copper hilt. The hilt was carved with some sort of geometric pattern, but there was nothing on the blade." _Except Sam's blood, that is._

"Geometric? Like a celtic knot or something?"

"No, maybe more Greco-roman? I don't think I've seen it before on a knife, but it reminded me of that style."

"Okay. Look, we'll find Sam, but you're going have to give me a few hours to try to figure out something about this girl. That's the only place to start." Bobby could hear Dean calming a little, settling back into the hunter he was trained to be.

"You don't seriously think that was a human girl?" Dean asked.

"Of course not, but I've got to call her something," Bobby snapped. "Besides, I'm not so sure that winged image was a trick of your imagination. I've got a few ideas; call you back."

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The cell phone ringing two hours later shouldn't have been a surprise, but it still made Dean jump. He'd been awake way too long, caffiene replacing the majority of his blood supply. Expecting Bobby, he felt sucker punched by what he saw there. No person on the other end, not even a message, just coordiantes. _Haven't gotten a call like that since Dad d-died.... _

The impala was heading further west, Dean wondering if Sam had somehow sent them or if he was being lured into a trap. He couldn't risk not going, not if there was a chance that Sam was there. He was skirting the US-Mexico border and the country was becoming rugged as he approached the Chisos Mountains. Beautiful, but not the sort of place he wanted to picture Sam hurt or alone. _Course then, alone might be an improvement._

This time when the phone rang, Dean found he had someone to talk to after all.

"Hey Dean honey bunny, it's Kerry, from the other night?"

"Kerry?" Nothing about the other night brought a 'hey Dean it's Kerry' conversation opener to mind. _Tell me she didn't just call me honey bunny... seriously?...._

"Oh now, you'll hurt a girl's feelings. Don't tell me you forgot?"

"Forgot! Hell, no, I didn't forget the other night!" Dean's temper exploded at her. "What I did forget was the next two days. Where is Sam? What the hell have you done with my brother?"

"Aww, maybe I liked you better as the strong silent type. You're not still jealous about me starting out with Sam are you? After all, you did get the first kiss. Anyway, you know where Sam is. A good estimate at least, I'm just never quite sure how those GPS thingies work. So, you busy tonight shug?"

"AM I BUSY?"

"Oh, that's right, you've got that babysitting gig again, how silly of me. You do know you're not supposed to leave him out in the desert, right? Your momma should have taught you that..."

"I. do. not. babysit. Sam. and..."

"So you are free tonight then! Good, cause I'm all lonesome now that Sam's gone. I really did like you better quiet, but I'm sure we could find something else to do besides talk. All the cute girls say so."

"Stay away from me and Sam. And what do you mean, gone? Is he ok?" _He better be._

"Ok?" Kerry's voice sounded like the height of syrupy innocence. "Well, I suppose so. He was alive when I left him, if that's your question. Of course, it's awfully hot today. No frostbite trouble at least, though. I've heard that can be just downright nasty, haven't you Dean? How's your wrist, love? Hmmm, seems like there's something I'm forgetting.... Oh that's right, water. I meant to leave him some water, oh well."

"I am going to go find Sam," Dean answered through clenched teeth. "And once I take care of my brother, bitch, I will definitely take care of you."

Apparently the coy act was over. "Oh Dean, promises, promises. Shouldn't make ones you'll never keep, darlin'." That throaty laugh of hers didn't sound a bit better the second time around.

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A/N - I'm considering changing the summary for this, don't think I'm catching many folks attention. Those of you that are reading (and especially reviewing!) thanks so much. I'll get another chapter up tomorrow. Let me know what you think...


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

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There was just no way to get any closer to those blasted coordinates and stay on the road. Dean had entered the western end of Big Bend National Park a few hours ago and had been driving on a dirt road since he made it past the Santa Elena Canyon. It still appeared to be a route used by tourists occasionally, but he hadn't seen a car the last twenty miles. Twenty dusty miles that had taken over an hour, and now he was going to have to leave the impala and slow down even further on foot. At least there was a trail of sorts as the desert landscape made it look like setting out without one might well be a final choice of activity. He selected a few items from the trunk, overall wishing he had more water. If Sam was actually at the coordinates, it wasn't very far. If he wasn't....

The sun glared mile hike seared into his back, rippled heat keeping Dean from looking very far ahead. He was between the mountains of the park, but the small rolls of the rocky landscape here would be more than enough to hide Sam from view. How could it possilby be less than a week since he almost froze to death? His shirt was already soaked in the distance he'd covered, clinging to his frame. He kept listening for any sound from his brother, wondering if he was even here or if perhaps Kerry was somewhere here instead.

So, this was the spot....but was Dean hunter or hunted?

"Sam?" Nothing. Dean started to walk outward in circles, hand shielding his eyes as he called again for his brother. "Saamm!?" The Chihuahuan desert was unforgiving; blackbrush, agave, and even prickly pear picking at him as he passed. Fortunately the flora was mainly low growing here, plant spines repelled by his boots and jeans._ Boots and jeans Sam doesn't have. Assuming he is here. Assuming he didn't bleed to death back in the motel. Assuming me wandering around looking for him isn't a sick game for Kerry._

Dean's thoughts circled around in his brain. Even unhurt it would be hard to survive for long out here without water and shelter. Sam almost certainly had neither. If Sam had been out here ever since Dean left the motel, then he was dead. Dean wasn't ready to accept that. He kept telling himself that there was no reason for Kerry to send him here if there was no Sam to find. She had certainly had every opportunity to kill either of them the first night. _She said she wanted to show him something. Like what? Whatever it was, it can't be any use to her if he's dead, right? Of course, she also said a dead Sammy wasn't any fun, so soon. Did that mean she thought it would fun later? Like now maybe?_ Dean shook his head. Sam was not dead. He knew exactly what that looked like and he wasn't willing to ever see it again.

Something caught his eye at the base of a small gravel wash, probably a creek bed in whatever century it last rained here. It wasn't clearly a person, but it was large enough to maybe be his brother. An irregular mound of grey-tan dust that didn't quite match the surrounding rocky soil. Dean half ran, half stumbled toward the shadow on the ground. _Oh my God, Sammy._

"Sam?" Dean whispered, voice more of a prayer, as he knelt beside the still form. Sam was laying on his stomach, still in the boxers of three days ago, covered in dirt, ants, and his own blood. Long claw trails ran the length of his back and legs, some gaped open to the muscles beneath. The arm Dean could see was the same, the left one hidden beneath him. What little skin was intact had started to blister from the sun. Dean clamped down the bile rising in his throat and resolutley rolled him over.

His stomach and chest were worse, if anything, minus the blisters. _Sunny side up...He hasn't moved since she dumped him here._ Dean steadied his fingers deliberately before reaching to Sam's bloodied neck.

The faint pulse actually surprised Dean; he had been stealing himself not to find it. The rise of his brother's chest was so shallow it hadn't been visible. " Ah Sam, look what she did to you. I am so sorry. I never meant to leave you there. I'm sorry. Come on, Sam you gotta wake up for me here, come on." Dean began to look Sam over, seeing what other damage had been inflicted. The wound in his neck was about two inches long, all the way through the skin, but no further than that. The left arm that had been twisted beneath him was clearly broken, a large lump half way between shoulder and elbow, and the angle of the shoulder was forward, wrong. Dean forced Sam's eyes open, letting out a grunt as both pupils immediately shrank from the sunlight. At least that was one encouraging sign. The heat radiating off of him sure wasn't. His face was relatively unscathed, a bruise over his left eyebrow and some scratches from the dirt he'd been laying on, lips cracked in the heat. Dean ran his fingers through Sam's hair. A little dried blood, a lot of dust, but no evident bumps or gashes. Several wounds were still seeping a bit. Dean rubbed his hands over his own face out of habit, belatedly realizing he was now likely grime coated as well.

"Sammy?" He hadn't expected an answer. Dean was torn between relief at finding him alive and horror at his brother's appearance. "I'll get you out of here, I promise."

Dean knew he hadn't had signal for the phone for miles, but he checked it again anyway. Nope. So, no help getting Sam out of here, expected that. He had circled back part of the way to the car before he found him, but it was still a good half mile. He had brought a blanket from the impala which he spread on the ground, pulling Sam over onto it as gently as he could. He almost wished Sam would cry out, but the silence stretched as Dean knotted the corners into hand holds. He cut a few slits in the bottom of the blanket, weaving his belt through the holes and then buckling the wrap around Sam's feet. Hopefully that would keep the blanket from just coming out from under Sam the first time Dean gave it a good tug. The scrubby vegetation offered nothing to help him with his makeshift stretcher and an infinite variety of gravel, cactus spine, and briar to grasp at Sam as they went. There wasn' t anything to be done about that, he had to get Sam out of this heat now. He couldn't get Sam to drink any of the water at all and finally settled for pouring two of the three bottles over him, hoping it would cool him a little. The going was achingly slow, Dean stopping often to repostion the blanket under Sam. Not for the first time, Dean regretted that he couldn't simply carry his larger brother for any distance. Once the impala with it's reserve water gallon was in sight, he poured the third bottle over him as well. It got rid of the worst of the ants if nothing else.

_There was a hospital sign in Alpine._ Dean futilely tried to recall if anything had been closer. There were a few other towns nearby, maybe there was a least a doctor. It was a hard decision for either of them to set foot in a hospital with their fugitive status, and even a doctor's office might turn them in, but Sam needed more help than Dean could give him alone. He drove about half an hour, covering a pitifully short distance, before he could finally get an outgoing call through. After a moments indecision, he dialed Bobby instead of 911.

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"Where in the hell have you been?" Bobby always had just the right phone etiquette. "I've tried to call you a dozen times."

"I've got Sam. It's bad." Dean's sliced through the planned tirade, giving details as quickly as he could.

"It's bad all around Dean. I still can't tell you exactly who your new lady friend is, but every reference I can find to those talon-ended black wings is part of some war horror story. Some of those stories are centuries old, too. I don't think her plans are going to stop at you or Sam. Now where are you?"

"Near Study Butte, I think. Look, I've got to take of Sam first and I don't want to stop moving to figure out the closest hospital or doctor or something. You find it while I drive."

"No, Dean. Hospital's not an option. This demon of yours, well what you described to me, I think she was trying to do something to Sam that's not going to be easy for outsiders to understand."

The tone of voice told Dean a lot more than the actual words. _Demon. He said demon._ "You think this has something to do with his visions, something to do with South Dakota, don't you?" Dean asked.

"I'm not sure yet, but yes, I do. I think if there wasn't a mark on Sam anywhere he'd be just as out of it as he is now. I don't really have time to explain; there's something I have to handle on this end, but stop the first place you can and stay with Sam."

"Of course I'm going to stay with Sam, get him through whatever she did, but I'm gonna need some help to patch him up. You think I like that a few stitches isn't going to fix this! He's hot as a firecracker, probably infected, he has to be dehydrated but he won't drink, and the arm needs set. I can't help the rest if I can't wake him up, Bobby!"

Dean was listening to Bobby breathe over the phone. _He knows more than he's telling._

"Ahhh.......... He's not gonna wake up, Dean."

"What?!?"

Dean stared at his cell phone for a moment as if it had somehow caused the nonsensical words tumbling from Bobby.

"No, no , no, that's not possible... I'll do whatever it takes, Bobby. Hell, I've already done whatever it takes. Sold my.... All of this can't have been wasted, not like this. He has to be fine. We've been through worse. He has to fine; it's all that matters. He has to be..."

As Dean trailed into silence, Bobby got the distinct feeling he had forgotten the open phone line. He exhaled a long pent up breath. "Okay, look, maybe I do know someone who can help you.

.

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A/N Ah, well back to where we started..... You know, the review thing on this one is tough on a girl's ego.... Not that I'm whining....ok, so I'm whining, lol..... Probably more tonight.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

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Dean turned off the ignition, silently wondering why the invention of pavement had deserted him. Ten miles down another dirt road, he had arrived at Bobby's promised help for Sam. Alarm bells were competing with each other in his head, worry for Sam clashing with suspicion of what added up to a whale of a coincidence. Bobby knows one person anywhere that he thinks might be able help them, and they just happens to be in the same desert where Kerry dumped Sam? Dean didn't believe in coincidence, and he more than knew when he was being led around by the nose. For now though that didn't matter. For now, he was going to haul Sam up onto that porch and pray Bobby was right about that help. The kid didn't have a lot of time.

He had half raised his fist to knock when the screen door opened. The first thing he noticed was that the young woman who opened the door looked distinctly unhappy that he was there. The second thing he noticed was that she had long chestnut curls. And indigo eyes. _Sam's dream..._

"Singer send you?" her voice was cautious and she made no effort to hide her negative appraisal of Dean.

He nodded, swallowing the smartass remark that sprang to his lips. He needed this girl. "My brother..."

"Bobby said you needed my help. Well, lets get a look at him then. He still in that dirty old car?"

Dean was too tired to do more than nod again, leading her to the passenger door of the impala. He could and would carry Sam the short distance into the house if she would permit him inside. He pulled Sam from the car, trying not to jostle him too much as he lifted him over his shoulders.

She took a sharp intake of breath. "Bobby said he was hurt, not half dead! I'm not sure we can do this out here. Why in the world didn't you take him into town and call for helicopter rescue?"

The very thing he had considered, of course. "Bobby thought you could help him with something else, too."

Her eyes narrowed at the guarded choice of words and she walked behind Dean, getting her first look at the matted longish brown hair. She reached out a hand and lifted Sam's chin, stopping dead in her tracks.

"Oh no. No. Sam? Sam Winchester?"

Dean spun around, the shock nearly costing him his balance with his brother's extra weight. "Do you know Sam?"

"Yes. I mean no. I mean, oh heck. I don't know. No, I don't know him, but I've been looking for him. We need to hurry inside, I've got supplies there."

Dean followed her up the porch steps. _He said he didn't know you either. _"I'm Dean."

"Dr. Cooper. Make that Gabriella." She called back to him, leading the way through the living room and kitchen to a back bedroom. She waved a hand at the bed as Dean gratefully put Sam down.

"Doctor? You're old enough for that?" Dean had guessed she was a year or two younger than Sam.

"Crap he's hot. Hand me that bag behind you. And yeah, I'm old enough for that. I get that a lot. If it matters, I'm twenty-seven, finished residency a year ago. The bag?"

Her hands ran a quick once over Sam, noting the arm, the still seeping gouges, rapid shallow respiration, hot dry skin. Fingers snaked around his wrist as she looked at her watch, pulse rate 130. Could have been worse, but sure could have been better, too. As soon as Dean handed her her bag, she had the stethoscope and blood pressure cuff out, moving to the other side of the bed to avoid the injured arm. 75/40. Damn. She listened to his chest quickly, muttering to herself. An ear thermometer came and went in a flash. 104.4F. More muttering. "Hand me that pulse ox and then start filling the bathtub with cold water and whatever ice I've got in the freezer bin. Don't use what's in the ice trays, we'll need it."

"Pulse ox?"

She gave Dean an exasperated look. "Little white box with an LCD screen, looks like it has a clothespin attached to it."

The muttering resumed. "Hmm, sat 90%, hyperthermic, basilar rales, rhythm's regular at least, hypotensive, lacerations are infected, need debrided, midshaft humerus fracture, clavicle fracture, .... Ok access first,then temp..."

Dean no longer doubted the medical background. No one but a doctor could come up with such an infuriating string of jargon.

"Hey!" Dean gave her a sharp look as curve tipped surgical scissors eliminated the rest of the boxer shorts.

"Good grief, Dean. You want me to fix him or not?" She didn't look up as she started looking for an IV site, knowing her patient was much too dehydrated to find anything in his hands or inside elbows. She decided on the external jugular and was taping the IV down in Sam's neck when Dean spoke again.

A much more subdued voice, this time. "Can you?"

"Can I what?"

"Fix him?"

She connected a bag of IV fluid and looked Dean in the eye. "Help me put him in the tub and then we'll talk."

Dean tucked the pillow she handed him under Sam's head, holding it safely above the water. They both sat on the edge of the tub, grim expressions matching one another's.

"The odds are against him getting through this, at least here. He has heat stroke, his blood pressure is too low, there's probably fluid in his lungs from right heart failure, which is a complication of the heat stroke. On top of that, some of those wounds are infected and need to be cleaned out. I can't be sure that he's not septic from those and if he is that's really going to complicate matters." She paused a moment, then elaborated at Dean's raised eyebrow. "Sepsis is a blood stream infection and it lowers your blood pressure too. That, with the dehydration and heat stroke may very well have shut down his kidneys. Those shorts were dry. First step is to cool him down to about 102F, then we get him back in bed and take stock again. Give him too little IV fluid, his blood pressure drops until his heart stops. Give him too much and his lungs fill up with fluid and he drowns."

Dean rubbed the back of his hand against his mouth, closing his eyes. _No, Sammy...._ His voice was almost inaudible. "You always this cheerful?"

"I'm sorry Dean. But I want you to understand medically he belongs in an ICU. I have more meds here than a typical clinic, but I don't have all the monitoring equipment I need. He could need a ventilator, he needs central IV access, he needs quick turn around time on lab work, the oxgen tanks I've got will last a day at best. I can call and have rescue here in an hour at most if they fly."

"In an hour..." _God, Sammy, what do I do..._ I'm thinking you know Bobby sent us here instead of toward town for a reason." Dean looked right at her again, trying to read her eyes. "I'm thinking you keep this much equipment in a household clinic that should be for sprained ankles for a reason."

"I take care of some folks here who can't go anywhere else, that's true. People who can't take a chance on being found, people who need help with, ah, something else as you put it. I don't do it often and there's always an unusual reason. You just need to know that his chances of us ever getting to that 'something else' aren't all that good. I can't promise he'd survive in a hospital, but the odds would certainly improve. So, do I call that helicopter?

Dean looked at Sam's battered form half submerged in the ice water. He swallowed and closed his eyes again. "No." _Don't let me be wrong, Sam._

Gabriella and Dean were settling Sam back in the bed, his temperature down enough that she was content with him out of the water as long as she had ice to keep a pack under each arm. "I've got phelbotomy tubes here. I'm going to get some labs drawn and my brother Brandon will come pick them up. He the doc over at the resort at Lajitas and can run results for most of what I want there. It's been too long to just suture these cuts, but more of them are shallow than I thought. There's only two on his chest I would have sutured anyway. I think most of the blood we saw there was from his neck. That one does concern me, though,and I know a few of the ones on his back are really deep. Once Brandon gets here, we'll clean those out and set the arm together."

Sam looked a little better clean, but he still hadn't made a sound. Gabriella had cleaned all the superficial wounds, claw marks that were mostly narrow but ran up to fifteen inches in length all over her patient. She had learned as a child not to ask too many questions about the people who were sent here, but what on earth did this?

Brandon made it about half an hour later, same chestnut hair as his sister, his cut even shorter than Dean's, eyes a watery grey. He was considerably older than Gabriella, perhaps forty. He tucked the tubes of blood in a cooler before turning around to get a look at Sam. "He shouldn't be here, Gabby."

She sighed, a soft plaintive sound. "I know. They can't go anywhere else. Bobby sent them."

"I don't care. I know you think you've got your own little world going out here. As far as it goes, I guess you do. But you are too good at this not to practice, sis, and you get caught with someone like this here, the medical board isn't going to slow down long enough to take your license. I'm pretty sure they'll just shoot you and get it over with." Her brother glared at her, color rising in his pale skin.

"I said I know! Brandon, he's the boy. The one I was trying to find."

Her brother's eyes widened at that, all further arguement about Sam staying evaporating. "Oh. Well then he stays. Let's get the arm first then the back. Is his blood pressure up any?"

"Yeah, first 500ml of D5 and a half's in and he's up to 88/52. Oxygen saturation has come up to 93%, so I don' t think he's getting overloaded with fluid, so far so good. Levaquin and primaxin's hanging for antibiotic coverage. I am glad we're not going to need pain meds to do the rest of this tough, it'd probably just crash his BP again."

Brandon finished looking at Sam's arm and collarbone. "I think you're right. Clavicle is still in place, although he may have some rib fractures there too. This arm really should be surgically pinned, but here goes nothing. Dean, can you hold his hand and pull straight down along his leg? Doing this this way is about a hundred years out of style, but apparently it's what we've got."

Dean nodded, pulling the arm as requested, stomach giving a little lurch as he heard Gabriella snap the bone back into place. Brandon had been standing at the head of the bed ready to pin Sam if he bucked against the painful realignment of his arm. The younger hunter hadn't batted an eyelash.

"Ok then, you fellas help me roll him. " Gabriella looked over her secondary survey of Sam's back, Brandon letting out a low whistle as leaned over her shoulder.

"Looks like a fight with a cheese grater. Now what did you say happened, Dean?" He narrowed his eyes, not bothering to hide his instinctive dislike of the other man.

"Brandon, can you play twenty questions later and help me?" Gabriella fussed at her brother. "At least 3 of these need cleaned out with a scalpel. There's dead tissue at the edges, Dean, and the infection in the wound won't clear out if I don't cut that tissue away."

_Maybe there is some logic to that out in the waiting room thing at the hospital after all,_ Dean thought, backing away a few steps.

Gabriella was busily scraping away at Sam's back with her scalpel, Brandon keeping the fresh blood wiped away, half an eye on Dean. She finished the two deepest ones, pleased that the muscle below, while visible, appeared uncut. She started to work on the final infected wound, all the others would be shallow enough to simply wash out with saline and cover in gauze when she was done. This one trailed low across Sam's right hip, so she pulled the sheet further down to get a better look. And stopped.

How had she not seen that the first time around? _Well lots of ways, Gabby, _she thought._ Let's see - he was filthy, there was blood everywhere_, _he still had some clothes on, oh, you were a wee little bit busy seeing if he was breathing,..._ There in tiny letters on his hip was a word.

_Okay, big breath_. _Crud, my hands never shake. _"Umm, Dean, what does Kerry's mean?"

Dean's head snapped up to stare at Gabriella, eyes instantly angry. "Kerry's?"

"No, Dean, look. Not K-E-R-R-Y-'S. It says K-E-R-E-S."

_Sunuvabitch that's a brand..._

Dean stepped back to Sam, putting a hand on Gabriella's shoulder in the process. Until that instant, neither one of them had realized that in the three hours they had both been caring for Sam, they had never actually touched each other. Gabriella sank to the floor as if she'd been scalded, scalpel clattering to the wooden floor boards as she put both hands to her temples, face pulled into a grimace. Dean knew the expression well, he'd just never seen it on anyone but Sam.

Brandon started to take a step toward his sister until he heard her next word. "Hunter. Bobby Singer sent a damned hunter." Gabriella was quickly losing the ability to speak. "Help me."

Dean was trying to fathom this turn of events when he heard the unmistakable pump of the rifle Brandon had just pulled from behind the door. He spoke with barely contained fury. "Stay right there."

"Staying." Dean made a point of keeping both his hands in front of him and open, looking between the siblings. Brandon was obviously livid, Gabriella terrified._ Because she somehow knows I'm a hunter? She was talking about people who couldn't just show up at a hospital_ _and about knowing Bobby, what else was all that supposed to mean? Are they going to turn like this on Sam? And what does Keres mean?_

"Okay," Brandon began, stepping between Dean and his sister, "you are going to get out of here and stay far away from Gabby, forever. I'm not going to let some hunter at her, you got it? And don't be telling anyone where she is either." The rifle barrel stayed perfectly level, not five feet from Dean's chest.

Dean knew he had to calm the elder Dr. Cooper. "I'm not going to hurt Gabriella. I'm not sure why you think I would. But I can't just go. What about Sam?"

Gabriella scooted across the floor away from Dean until her back hit the wall, knees pulled up to her chest and arms wrapped tightly around them. Her whole body was shaking when she finally raised a tear stained face to look at Dean again. "Yeah what about Sam? There's no animal that makes claw marks like that and now I find a brand mark?! Filthy, crazy hunters. You did this, didn't you, Dean?"

.

.

.

A/N: I took a few medical liberities here - the treatment is pretty accurate, just parts of it are a century out of date. Actually dunking somebody in a tub with open wounds tends to spread infection and isn't the way to go if modern medical facilities are an option, but what the hay, I like the story better this way. Fiction for a reason and all that. Let me know what you think....


	8. Chapter 8

A/N - I hope everyone had a joyous Easter. And now carrying on..

CHAPTER 8

.

"You did this, Dean, didn't you?"

The question was so absurd that even sarcasm deserted Dean.

"Me? How could you think I would.... No, I did not do this to my brother. I never...." The spluttering was uncharacteristic, but then, so was the accusation.

"Shut up!" Brandon snarled at the younger man, taking another step toward him with the rifle. "Bobby should have never sent you here. Gabby will take of your brother, if that's even who he is, but you are going to leave." He gestured toward the door with the gun barrel. "Now!"

Dean sized up the expression on the other man. _Used to handling the gun, but he doesn't want to fire it. Whatever he's used to shooting, it isn't people. Still time to talk then._ "The last time I left Sam you can see what happened. I'm. not. going." He took a tenative step forward, a physical need to get himself between Sam and that rifle, then froze at the rising panic in Bradon's visage. _If he's not used to this he's more apt to fire out of fear than malice...Maybe if I keep talking..._ "How 'bout that whole Hippocratic Oath thing? The not hurting anybody part?"

"Only applies to patients. Which you aren't - yet. And I told you to shut up."

Gabriella shakily stood, leaning against the wall behind her, anxious eyes raking over the hunter before her. "Brandon, we can't do this now. For better or worse, Sam _is_ my patient, and I can't exactly call time out ."

Brandon pressed his lips together, then gestured toward Dean with his head. "Find out if he did this first."

"I can't do that, Brandon. He'd have to agree to it, and I'm betting we're not on good terms right now." Her wide, scared eyes went back to Dean's face.

"You didn't bother to ask his permission to find out he was a hunter!"

"That was an accident and you know it!. I was trying to be open for Sam, I didn't expect anyone else to touch me."

"Little late to worry about that now. He's a hunter, he got his disgusting hands on you, and I say he did this. You know what they're capable of! And what about this one," his chin jerked backward to indicate Sam "huh, Gabby? What if he's the same? You ought to put them out and let him die."

Gabriella paled at the idea. "Tell me you couldn't do that, Bran. He's my patient, he's helpless..." Afraid or not, she couldn't stomach the thought. And then there was the little matter of a week's worth of dreams about the shaggy haired young man before he even arrived. Her expression calmed a fraction as she made her decision. "I'm not doing that. Are you going to help me or not?"

Brandon shrugged, clearly unhappy with his sibling. "Find out what he did."

"I didn't do a blasted thing." Dean interrupted the volley, biting back a dozen snippets of snark to focus on reassuring the pair enough to get them to return to work. "I'm not sure where this is going, but if it involves you getting back to taking care of Sam, I'm in."

Gabriella closed the small distance to the foot of the bed, stripping off her gloves. "Sit down, Dean." She waited until he complied, watching him gingerly settle in the ladderback chair against the far wall. "Give me your hand, and don't say anything."

_Haven't been told to be quiet this often since the third grade. _Dean slipped his hand into hers, noting her trembling fingers. _Having to filet the skin off Sam didn't scare her, but I do. Why?_

She closed her eyes a moment, Sam alone oblivious to the odd tableau. "He's not lying. He didn't hurt Sam." There was genuine suprise in her tone.

_She really believes a hunter would do this. What happened to you, Gabriella?_

Brandon lowered the gun a fraction. "I still don't like them being here, especially if you want me to go to the lab tonight and run these tests. What do you expect me to do, Gabby?"

"Lock him in the closet?" Dean saw the faintest hint of a wry smile beginning in her eyes.

"I would if you'd let me." Brandon passed the gun to his sister, then stepped out to the porch to re-enter a moment later with length of thin rope. "Guess I'll settle for keeping him in that chair."

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.

"Dean, you awake?" Gabriella's exhausted face was surveying the dawn.

Dean had been dozing in the chair in the far corner of the clinic, accepting the banishment to keep the peace, keep her working to save his brother. It had been hours since Brandon reluctantly left, a string of dire threats following him out the door.

"Am now." Dean straighted up slowly, flexing stiff muscles as much as the rope holding his wrists to the back rung of the chair permitted, willing himself not to scare her again.

"I want, well, I need to talk to you about Sam." Her subdued tone was almost mournful.

Dean went perfectly still. "Is he?..."

"No, oh God, I'm sorry Dean," she hurried forward, realizing the conclusion he had drawn. "No, he's the same, no worse at least. I just need some help figuring this out. Bobby really didn't send you here on a hunt, did he?"

"No, he really sent us here to save Sam. Look, I think he picked you for more than medical help." Dean circled warily around the topic at hand, wanting her to make the first move. _What does she know about Bobby? And how the hell did he miss giving me a heads up on how she felt about hunters? _

"I guess we kind of already gave it away that we're not big 'helping hunter' fans around here, huh? So. The only reason I can think of why Bobby sent you is that Sam is a psychic."

_Okay, now it's time to plow forward._ Dean gave her an appraising look, wishing he wasn't having this conversation trussed up like a turkey."And so are you."

"Yes."

The silence went a few minutes, then she decided to press on. "Medicine, taking care of everyone, that was Mom's thing and no matter what it looked like last night, Brandon got it in spades. It's different for me. Not day to day, maybe, when I'm fixing those sprained ankles you were so worried about. That's financial survival, and I do enjoy it, but I've been something different since I was a little girl. I had someone who could teach me to use that, and that's what I do for others now. A psychic can't show up at the doctor's office and figure out how their mind works. The medical community thinks people like me are nuts, the psychic community ignores medical studies on the brain. I'm a bridge. Patching up those ankles was supposed to be a sidebar, but lately a lot of that physical sidebar has come at the hands of people like you - hunters. Hunters are turning on my kind, Dean, and I don't know why." She shook her head. "This all sounds insane, doesn't it?"

"Very little sounds insane in my line of work. If you want to make being a psychic the next big thing, you've taken on more of a crusade than a career, though." Dean picked through his words carefully. _Come on Sam, wake up kiddo. You're supposed to handle all this talk it to death crap. _"A hunter came for you already because of what you are." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah, over a year ago. Our uncle. Brandon shot him." She walked out of the clinic.

_Her uncle?_

The strained silence stretched on for an hour or two, Gabriella periodically circling the room as she checked on Sam, finally letting out an exasperated sigh and returning to straight backed chair.

"Dean?"

"Yeah."

"You ok?"

_No. Of course I'm not ok. I'm tied to a freakin' chair in the middle of nowhere with a chick whose brother wants to perforate my hide and Sammy's, God, Sammy's still half dead, so I pretty much couldn't be less ok..._ "Oh, I'm better than ok, sweetheart."

Gabriella stifled a snort. "Why do I doubt that?" She watched him twist his wrist slightly, the binding slipping a bit. "Are you really stuck there?"

_Shit._ "What? Hundred percent yours, Gabriella, gift wrapped and everything. I'll be right here; not going anywhere." He finished off with a half hearted wink. _I spook her again and you're up the creek little brother._

"The truth Dean. How long have you had that rope loose?"

The facade shattered, leaving behind an exhausted man worried sick about his brother. "Awhile. Didn't want to scare you."

"Hmmm. You thought I'd stop taking care of Sam? I won't, you know. Brandon won't either, no matter how it sounded."

"Couldn't take that chance."

She considered that, then nodded, seeing something in those green eyes along with the concern for his sibling. He could have gotten up anyway, taken Brandon's discarded gun. Could have forced her to treat his brother. He hadn't. "I'm guessing you'd be happier in the armchair by the bed?"

The soft tone in his voice suprised her. "Yeah, I would."

"Go on then, I'll be back in a few minutes."

Dean smiled, aware they'd reached an understanding.

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_._

It was four o'clock the following afternoon when Gabriella eventually decided her patient wasn't going to die. Brandon had called her with the second set of labs results sometime after breakfast and fortunately there had been no surprises. Sam was still a little dehydrated, his creatinine was coming around, there was nothing on the blood counts or cultures to suggest sepsis. The last temperature she took was 100.2, BP 104/68. _Nothing like pure dumb luck_, she thought. The scarring wouldn't even be as bad as she'd first suspected, probably just the three worst tracks on his back. _And that word._ _  
_

"Dean?"

"Um hmm?"

"I looked up the word Keres."

"And?"

"I found two sets of information. I'm assuming Sam doesn't have much to do with Israeli missile launchers."

"Safe assumption."

"Then Keres was the Greek mythological spirit of violent or vengeful death. She was the daughter of Nyx, sister of the Fates. Apparently they thought she fed off blood and battle corpses after she sent the souls to Hades. Some Greek texts even use the word to mean fate, or destiny."

Oommphfff. "Those mythology books of yours happen to give a description?" Dean waited for the answer, sure he already knew it.

"It was a website actually, but yeah. A black winged female creature with pointed talons, sometimes described as more human appearing, other times more raptor like." She paused, her mind involuntarily going to the marks on Sam. "You don't actually think something like that exists? That this Keres attacked him?"

Dean was staring at the floor, but didn't quite see the worn wood. "Remember when I said very little sounds insane? This is one of those times."

"Dean that's, well, that's crazy. I mean, some of the stories that I've heard about hunters, and what they hunt, are pretty out there, but I don't believe in this sort of thing."

"Heaven forbid the psychic team leader should believe in anything weird." Dean heard his own frustration mounting. He had to talk to Bobby soon, and Sam if he could.

"Ok, I deserved that, but I'm going to have to think this through. I can't recall a pyschic that doesn't at least accept ghosts, but all the rest?"

He had smoothed his tone again before he answered her, aware that it was unlikely in the extreme that Kerry was done with them. "May want to do that thinking fairly fast, doc."

.

TBC

A/N - A bit of a linking chapter, but I felt like it needed to be there. Thanks to everyone that's reading and reviewing and I'd really like to hear from you - comments are like candy, those little tidbits that can make a day.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N - Thanks so much for everyone who's reading. We're sort of in the middle section of this now, a little recuperation before the fellas get back to hunting, lol. Hope you enjoy it.

CHAPTER 9

Another week went by, Dean living in the armchair now directly beside Sam's bed, tips of his fingers brushing his brother even when he slept. He'd called Bobby a dozen times, discarded notes scattered about the floor; hastily tucked out of Gabriella's sight when she entered the room.

They'd had a tense moment the second morning when Brandon arrived to find Dean free, the older man casting a forlorn glance at the rifle he couldn't reach before he launched himself into the hunter, pinning him to the chair back. Bran's fist grasped a handful of t-shirt, twisting it choke the other man.

Dean fought ever instinct he had not to flatten the fool. Misguided or not though, Brandon wasn't that stupid. Something in that moss green stare finally registered with him, letting him know exactly how close he was skirting to becoming very, very dead. In the end, he declared Gabriella an idiot and stormed out of the house, yelling that whatever happened now was on her head.

Gabby had moved Dean's things into the guestrooms at the far end of the ranch style house after that, hoping he'd get some rest, but the bed had gone unslept in. The elder hunter still made her nervous, but she figured as long as Sam needed her, she was safe enough. On the rare occasions Dean allowed himself a nap, she could see the legitimate concern in the unguarded features. Sam, unfortunately, continued to get nothing but sleep. Gabriella tried to broach the topic yet again.

"I'm not sure why he's not awake Dean. Medically, he should be. You said he never woke up when she was in your motel room? Not even before he was hurt?" At Dean's head shake she continued. "Then I think it's time for me to change jobs. I meant it before when I said I wanted someone's permission to go fishing around in their brain. Obviously, Sam can't give me that. Can you?"

Dean nodded. He and Sam had trusted their lives to each other too many times to balk at allowing a little mental field hockey. "Fishing in a Winchester head, huh? You may need hip waders."

She smiled at his attempt to lighten the mood, then pulled a second chair over and put a hand on Sam's shoulder.

She was instantly sucked into a world she had never believed in, the world her father had whispered about before her aunt threw him out, the world Sam Winchester apparently lived in. The jumble of images turned into an inescapable onslaught. Dense black wings blocking every light, a yellow eyed man talking to him beside an oak tree, standing over a bearded, pleading man with a shotgun, firing repeatedly at a man in a cemetery, a mangled version of the black car out front, a pretty brunette crying as a bullet ripped her heart, fire spreading through blonde waves spread over plaster, an infant with blood drops on his lips, hellhounds ripping a broken form apart….

She didn't feel Dean catch her as she slid out of the chair. Just realized the floodgate had stopped. Twenty minutes passed before she tried to speak and then the first two attempts ended in silent rasps. "What..... Wh ..What d-does he usually see?"

Dean was pale, looking between the two of them. "The visions? Mainly he'd see someone dying, before it happened. Sometimes we could prevent it, sometimes not. What did you just see?"

"W-Wait. You said 'he'd.' Past tense, why?" Her own coloring looked little better.

"The visions stopped a couple of months ago. Sam thought they were associated with, umm, with someone who's dead now. Now what did you just see?"

She didn't miss the edge creeping into his voice or the fact that he had tightened his hold on Sam's hand. As accurately as she could describe them, she recounted the images to Dean.

"Those aren't his visions."_ Well, except that last one, not yet anyway, but I'm not ready to go there with this little show and tell fest__.__ Jeeze Sammy do you have to go imagining what that's going to be like? I've kinda been going out of my way to avoid that.. "_That's what's actually been happening." _Sounds even crazier coming from someone else._

"How did you live through this?" She was silently crying.

_He didn't._ "We're not through this," he deflected, "until Sam is ok again. Did you see a way to help him?"

"I think so. Normally when I touch someone I can tell whatever they're thinking about right now, I don't get the reader's digest condensed version of their life. Everything's right on the surface for Sam and I bet he has this Kerry to thank for that. He's not asleep Dean, it's like she turned on a light switch and he doesn't know how to turn it off. He's not aware now just like he's never been aware during any other vision."

Dean blanched. "This is like a vision?" _No, no Sammy, can't be like a vision. The spiking headaches, the exhaustion and pain of two minute visions drain you when you're healthy, how can this possibly have gone on ten straight days? Why didn't I know?"_

"I think I can shut this down, for a while at least, but then he's going to need to do it himself. How'd he control the visions before?"

"Never did. They happened when they happened, I ran interference."

Her mood changed in an instant. "Damn. You know, maybe if the whole hunting community wasn't so dead-set on making everything supernatural out to be evil, he wouldn't be going through this. Someone should have taught him how to shut this off when he was three or four! It doesn't make any more sense than if your father had put off teaching him to tie his shoes until now!"

"I taught him to tie his shoes, not that it's your business, and Sam didn't have visions when he was three or four! Not until he was twenty-two as a matter of fact. And I told you before, it isn't the hunting community." He held up his hands when she started to protest. "Yes there's a component of that, Sam and I have had to fight it at times, but I've always accepted Sam for what he is. Bobby has too. There is a better side to us that you need to see!" Dean realized all the frustration of the past week, hell the past year was overflowing but he didn't care.

"A better side! So my brother didn't have to kill my uncle for me? Your own father didn't tell you to kill Sam?!"

Dean stared at her in shock, both of them heaving with the sudden emotional fury of the argument. "You saw that?"

"So it's true?"

His anger deflated, Dean looked at his shoes. "It's true."

She sat back down, unconsciously chewing her lip for several minutes. "Dean, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that. Most of this isn't any of my business, and I'm a bit overwhelmed by it. Wait..go back a minute. Sam didn't have visions until he was twenty-two?"

"That's right."

She looked back at Sam, a look Dean thought was almost sorrow crossing her face. "That's not possible, Dean. You're born being what we are, or you're not."

"Hey, I was there, sweetheart. No visions. They're kinda hard to miss."

"Fine. I'll take it up with Sam." She didn't raise her voice again, but her eyes flashed at Dean. She held her hand an inch over Sam's, then deliberately set it down.

Dean narrowed his eyes, watching both of their faces. Knowing what to expect apparently helped, she kept her seat this time. Several small gasps escaped her, but it was an hour later when she sighed and opened her eyes. She stood and left the room, not responding to Dean's questioning gaze.

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"D-D'n?"

The tentative whisper tickled in the back of Dean's head, weaving through the overstuffed chair where he slept.

"Dean?"

"Sam? Sam!" Dean was suddenly wide awake, leaning over the edge of the bed.

"Mmpphhf. I g-get hit by a train?" Sam hadn't opened his eyes yet, but his hand latched on to Dean's.

Dean couldn't help but smile, relief trickling into the corners of his soul. "No kid, no train."

"I hear a train. In my h-head." The voice was thick, rasping, but it was Sam. The hazel eyes opened. "Water?"

"Yeah Sammy, right here." He eased an arm behind Sam's good shoulder, helping hold his head up a bit. "Try a small sip; it's been over a week."

Sam nearly spit the water back on Dean. "A week?"

"What do you remember, Sam?"

Sam closed his eyes again, taking inventory. "Nothing that explains how I feel. Hurts. Everywhere."

"I know Sam, I'm sorry." Sam's sharp gasp as he tried to sit up cut through Dean. _I drove off and left him to this. _

Dean put a hand on Sam's chest, stalling any further attempts to move. "Stay put, ok? I want the doctor to look at you. We're in a clinic attached to her house, sixth day here, her name's Dr. Gabriella Cooper. Use your own name." Dean had turned to the door between the clinic room and the kitchen, when he saw her standing there. "I'll fill in the rest later, Sleeping Beauty – and quit fiddling with that IV."

"I thought I heard voices. Decided to wake up, Mr. Winchester?" The professional tone was completely at odds with the three AM dim nightlight, especially as she rubbed her eyes and tightened the belt of a terry robe.

"Guess so...." Sam stopped speaking as soon as she turned on the lamp. He took the familiar tousled chestnut hair and pale skin, eyes the color of an evening sky. "You're… her. Dean said you were imaginary."

"Nobody imaginary here, Sam. Although I kind of keep hoping Dean's a figment, you know?"

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.

It took an hour the next day to get through the 'get dressed and I'll make coffee routine', but Sam made it the twelve feet to the kitchen, admittedly with a whole lot of help from Dean.

"Always keep the patio lounger in the kitchen?" He managed a weak smile as Dean and Gabriella both helped him ease onto it.

"Just redecorated this morning. Got unexpected houseguests." Gabriella handed a coffee mug to Dean, raising an eyebrow when Sam frowned at his lukewarm bouillon, complete with a straw.

Dean grinned at his brother. "I'll smuggle you the good stuff later."

"You will not! Now behave while I go check on my other patients. I do work for someone besides you two, at least when the mood hits. Back after lunch, so you'll need to get that for him. Oh, and Dean, feed him some soup and water, not nachos and beer, got it?" Dean could have sworn she winked at Sam as she went out the door.

Lunch did turn out to be soup for both of them. By then Dean had filled Sam in on everything that had happened and spread his notes across the kitchen table and Sam's lap.

"So Bobby thinks this is the start of something, doesn't he?" Sam's soft tone worried Dean, confirming that much of the easy banter of breakfast had been put on for his benefit.

"We knew this was coming. A couple of hundred demons were never going to be the poster children for a peaceful coexistence movement." Dean rearranged papers again so Sam could see more of them from the lower lounge chair. "What do you know about Gabriella, Sam?"

"She's definitely who I was seeing in all those dreams, Dean, feels like I've known her a long time." He shrugged. "Makes sense from what you said, but it also feels weird that she knows so much about me."

"If it makes you feel any better, these little sharing sessions have changed her demeanor. She's clearly more comfortable with you than me. Not to mention that Brandon didn't say hello to you from the end of a rifle."

Sam flashed a dimpled smile. "I'm irresistibly likeable, Dean."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

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.

"We can't hole up here a month, Bobby!" Dean was staring at the offensive phone again.

"It'll take most of that before Sam can hunt again anyway. Give Gabriella a chance to teach Sam. It's why I sent you there and he has the sense to see it if you don't. I've been over every omen, every demon sign since that gate opened, Dean, and dammit this isn't going away. Your Kerry is nowhere to be found, but something is nudging all this toward a war. From you've told me, it's her."

"But why, Bobby? Why slice Sam to ribbons, screw with his head, and then disappear? I can buy that the yellow eyed demon had everything aligned to the point that this going to go down without him. I can even buy that other demons may know what use they could make of Sam. But what's kept everything quiet the whole summer? If Sam's still a key in this somehow, why is she sitting back and letting him get better? Sam's going to recover. Now that I know that, I need to get out of here and track that bitch down. Sam's putting on a good front, but I need to get this done."

"Since when is any of this about what you need, boy?! I wish to God it was. I wish I could think of one day of your whole bloomin' life that's been about what you need. If Sam's afraid it's just proof that he's still engages his brain occasionally. You try it, idjit. And as far as putting on a front, he learned that bullshit from the master. You taught him, so live with it. Sit tight and let Gabriella show Sam how to control whatever it is that goes on in that head of his. It's his best defense against being used, and you know it."

"Okay, okay. I do know it. I'm just stir crazy here and this psychic business is something I can't do for Sam. Kerry's getting by with this."

"You stickin' with calling her Kerry, then? From what I can piece together, the Greek myth comes from a type of demon, not one creature. Aside from that though, it's pretty accurate. She's gonna want as much carnage as she can create, doesn't matter whose side. A keres feeds off violent death Dean. I'm not suggesting you let her by with anything. I'm telling you that you both need to be prepared." Bobby paused; wanting to be sure he finally had Dean's attention.

"I'm not going off half cocked. We'll stay here until he's ready. Or until she doesn't give us a choice." Dean started to say something else, then changed his mind. "But if Gabriella can figure out what's in Sam's head, she's freakin' Einstein."

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.

Sam stretched over breakfast four days later, still banned from the table and chairs in favor of the lounger, but at least graduated to toast and a boiled egg. _Not sure I could swallow much else._

"I'm fine here and I know you're bored, Dean. Gabriella says there's an airstrip over at the resort. Brandon told her they've got a new pilot, still trying to get the place reorganized. They could use a hand for a week or two working on the engines of the planes and everything else that runs around there - vans, cars, golf carts." Sam was watching Dean walk the length of the living room for the fifth time.

"You did not just suggest I go to work at an airstrip."

"Never said you had to fly, Hinny Penny. Mechanic good. Fly bad."

"Hilarious Sam." _At least he's making jokes, even if they are bad._

The next morning found Dean at the airstrip after all. _How could I possibly be bored enough for this? What if the idiot wants to take a test drive?_ He spotted a small figure leaning into an antique biplane. "I'm Dean. Dr. Cooper told me to ask for Nick, thought you all might use a temporary mechanic?"

"There is no 'you all' around here, Dean," replied a pretty dark haired woman about his own age as she hopped down from the wing. "Just me. As for Nick, you found her."

Dean turned on the smile he reserved just for such occasions. "So, do you need a mechanic for couple of weeks?"

Nick took two steps closer and blatantly looked Dean up and down. "Sure I must need you for something, cowboy. Come on; let's find you some work to do."

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.

Sam was settling into a routine here. Mornings he had the ranch house to himself, allowing him to rest and research keres, among other things. He didn't remember the days he'd actually spent with the demon, but maybe that was just as well. Gabriella saw patients in her clinic or travelled to the local ranches as the need arose. After lunch, the two of them worked through physical therapy exercises and repacked the wounds in his back and neck, a process that was becoming more tolerable. Dean sometimes joined them for dinner, sometimes not, much to Sam's amusement. The first few days at the airstrip, Dean had been reluctant to leave Sam, but after replacing Sam's destroyed cell phone and getting Gabriella to acquiesce to salt lines everywhere, he went. Seemed like he was getting along with the new boss fine. If his brother seemed oddly tired at the end of the day, Sam shrugged it off as the stress of the last few months.

By evening, Gabriella got down to the real work of her day. Sam was different from anyone she'd ever taught and it was exhausting for both of them. She didn't think he'd ever be able to have a vision on purpose, and she'd told him as much. She couldn't do that either, on purpose or otherwise. Telekinesis seemed to be a slow process too, so far he'd only managed to break things. He could, however, now predictably shut a vision down and he had mastered Gabriella's ability to read surface thoughts off someone else.

"So you always need to touch someone to do that?"

"Yeah, are you saying you don't?" She turned her head sideways and looked again at Sam.

"No, I don't. It's right there to listen to; all I need to do is decide to listen. I'm not sure why I never saw that before."

"Sam, look. I know it's uncomfortable for you to talk about, but we've been over why. It's uncomfortable for me, too. Two weeks ago, all my father's ramblings about demons and witches were just craziness. If I've had to come around to some unpleasant truths, then you have to, too. That demon's blood didn't give you anything, it took it. All of this potential has always been there; he locked it away from you. If you ask me, it was a good strategy. Take the most powerful psychics you can find as infants, hide their capabilities away, then spring them back with a vengeance and tell them it's their fate. Tell them how they're destined to be evil and since they think their abilities showed up wrapped in a bow from a demon, they'll believe. This should have always been there, something special to cherish, Sam, not a curse."

Sam hung his head before he answered, hiding his eyes. "I can learn to use this. I can accept that it should have been mine to use all along. Seeing it as something to cherish, though, that I'm not going to be able to do." He wasn't willing to finish the thought out loud. _It's cost me too much, Gabriella. Mom, Dad, Jess. In less than ten months, it's going to cost me Dean if I can't stop it. And now another demon literally burned the word fate into my skin. How the hell am I supposed to cherish that?_

_._

_._

_TBC_

_A/N Thanks again. Let me know what you think......_


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

"Come on Sam, get off your keister. I'm gonna get some plant food and fertilize you if you sit there any more." Dean was gleefully prodding his brother into a walk.

"I never said I wasn't coming Dean, give me a minute. Why are you in charge of physical therapy today, again?"

"Gabriella went to see that pain in the ass brother of hers. She actually misses him and it seems like he's refusing to come visit as long as she lets us stay here. Go figure."

Sam dubiously shook his head. "Us, Dean, or just you?"

"Uh, just me actually; think I'm too awesome for him to be around. Now about that walk..."

"Whatever. I'm ready to get outside anyway." Sam shortened the strap on his sling a bit, shifting the casted arm away from his ribs. "Hand me that cane and we'll go. I feel ridiculous with this thing, by the way."

"She just wants you to use it outside where the ground's uneven, ok? Maybe another week." _That's right Sam, pretend you're not hurt and we can both believe it. Maybe I'm contagious._

Dean didn't miss Sam's brooding expression as they walked the fence line. "Whatcha thinkin'?"

"About what Gabriella said last night. Did she tell you she thinks I've always been this way?"

"She did." Dean nodded, wondering what Sam made of that. _Crud, kid makes it sound like some sort of defect..._

"Maybe she's right. I'm not sure it matters, really. Never mind."

"Sam. Spill." _Why does 'never mind' always mean I really, really need to talk about this with him?_

Sam stopped walking, absent mindedly rubbing his shoulder. "If that's true, if the yellow eyed demon stopped the visions, abilities I should have had as a child, so he could turn me later, then what about now? The same thing's happening to me again Dean. The visions stopped when the demon was gone. So either however he 'unblocked' them died with him, or they actually were from him in the first place. And if giving the visions back opens me up to turning into something evil, isn't that what Keres just did? You told me Keres said she wanted to show me something. Was this it? How to open this door again? Or is there more? I wanted us to be done with this idea of some lurking evil fate. Now I've got a permanent burnt reminder of it instead."

Dean took a few more steps before answering the convoluted musings. "I wanted it to be done too Sam. I don't know exactly what this means; hell, I'm not sure what you just said, but you're going to be okay. Those visions have helped us save people, Sammy. I can't believe they're evil, and I know you never will be." _Ok, Dean, time to rein that brain of his in a little, it's your job. _"Besides, now that you can control them, you can control anything they open you up to, right?"

Dean walked on ahead, wishing he could rein in his own brain. _How am I supposed to leave him in ten months if he's not safe from this? It was my job to save him. I thought I had._

"Sam?" Dean called back the half dozen yards to his limping brother. "You going to catch up or do I need to come back for you?"

"I'll catch up. I'm not totally helpless, Dean. Defenseless, maybe."

Dean narrowed his eyes. _That's one idea I need to cure him of right now. _He kept his face turned away from Sam, hoping his brother would miss the shift of weight to the balls of his feet. The gravelled yard made Sam's footsteps easy to count._ Come on, Sammy, one more._

Sam was within two feet of his brother's back when Dean whirled, kick coming toward Sam's stunned face. Sam shoved his cast forward to block in a time honed reflex before planting his better foot in the ground and swinging the cane up to sweep Dean's other leg out from under him. Dean landed flat on his back on the hard dirt, Sam standing over him indignantly puffing.

"What the heck was that?"

To his surprise, Dean laughed as he stood up. "You're never defenseless, Sammy."

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Gabriella returned from Lajitas after dinner, declaring that she wanted both of them in the clinic. "Under other circumstances, Sam, you would have had all this taken care of in a hospital and I'd probably be discharging you home about now, which would mean learning to do these dressing changes yourself. Since they're mostly where you can't reach them, it means Dean learning to do them. I know you're still going to be staying here a while, but if I'm out on a call I want to know you've got it covered. Besides, if you are officially discharged, you can quit sleeping in this hospital bed and move into the real house. I might even get my favorite chair back from Dean."

Dean snorted. "Knew you had ulterior motives. Teach away then doc, but Sam and I actually have this whole wound care thing down pretty well."

"Humor me." She pointed to the exam table and Sam sat down on the edge, obediently shrugging out of his shirt.

Half an hour later, she was satisfied that they were indeed better at this than any non-medics had a right to be. It looked like they'd had far too much practice.

"If you're convinced I'm competent to take care of Sam now, I'm going for a drive. The swing music you play in this house, it's making me nuts. You two can get back to your other, um, project, and I'll be back in an hour or two." They could hear the impala's blasting radio as he pulled out.

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"So, what sort of mind game are we playing this evening?" Sam hoped he didn't look as nervous as these sessions made him feel. He started to pick up his discarded green shirt and slide off the table.

"Hold on a minute, Sam. I want to clear something up." She put her hand lightly on his forearm, stopping him there. "So, you are hereby discharged from the hospital, such as it is, Samuel Winchester."

"Umm, Ok, Dr. Cooper." Darned if she wasn't the one who looked nervous. "So...."

"So I am no longer your doctor." She took a step closer, tipping her chin back to search his face. "And you are no longer my patient."

"Right. Not doctor and patient, absolutely not." Sam took another look at those deep blue eyes, wondering just where this conversation would end up, if he saw what he thought he did. _Nah, I'm imagining things....very Dean-like things.... although, maybe......_ "You got any teacher-student policies I need to know about?"

"Not a one," she whispered.

"Good."

She still startled slightly as his right hand found the side of her face, a feather of touch. She closed her eyes, turning to kiss his palm, a tentative kiss Sam could feel in his toes. He tipped her face back up with a finger, bending to her lips as he sought the clasp holding back her hair. It fell in a jumble over her shoulders, brushing against his neck. Her hand slid up his arm, idly tracing the muscles of his shoulder as she shifted to stand between his knees.

His breath caught as her teeth found the edge of his bottom lip and suddenly he was twisting his hand into her hair, pulling her against his chest. Her fingers sought the angles of his face, swept the edges of his hair, found the curve of his ear as his kisses trailed down her neck. Neither particularly remembered moving to the armchair in the den, Gabriella straddled across one denim clad leg, her hands seeking his relatively healed chest. She made a tiny, strangled moan as Sam's hand slid down her back, plucking at the bottom of her t-shirt. She pressed closer to him, sensing a climbing temperature to his skin that had categorically nothing to do with the desert. Their kisses were taking on an urgency that was leaving both of them suprised and breathless, the obstructive t-shirt now a forgotten heap in the floor. He hesitated a moment a the tie of her skirt, seeking her eyes. Saw the tiniest of nods, the tremble of her mouth before she pulled him back to her, slipping from the chair to thick pile rug.

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"Sam!" Dean's bellow from the front yard was met with stifled curses and laughter, but he was wrapped in his own thoughts enough not to hear them, or the soft click of a closing door.

"Hey, Sam, changed my mind about driving around alone. I think you need to get out of this house for an hour or two yourself. There's nothing close but an overpriced clothes shop at the hotel, but I'll take you to buy socks or something," Dean announced, walking into the room. Sam was sitting in the armchair, looking oddly exasperated. "Besides, I know last night's lesson was a little tough. Thought you might need me."

"Can't really think of a time when I've needed you less, Dean."

Sam's tone was almost angry. Dean refocused his attention and looked at Sam again. Flushed, shirt still held in his hand, winded. _Fever? Relapse?_ He was starting to get concerned when his eyes darted back to the shirt. The lavendar shirt. With the lace edge.

"New shirt, Samantha?"

"Not exactly."

Dean hadn't felt this stupid in a while. Not that he was likely to tell Sam that.

Instead a grin full of mischief lit his face. "Sorry Sam." He said softly, then raised his voice several notches, "Gabriella, I'm just going to go knit me some of those socks, so you can come out now."

Dean was walking back out the door when he called over his shoulder again, "And Sam, I did teach you to get dressed. You're supposed to button those jeans."

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Breakfast the next morning was slightly awkward, but as Dean was due at the airfield at eight a.m., none of them had much time to stew about it. Gabriella spent the morning organizing her clinic now that Sam's things had disappeared to the guest room and Sam spent it on the laptop and phone. His whispered conversations with both Bobby and Dean made her uneasy.

By early afternoon, pretty much everything at the resort that possessed an engine had been inspected. Twice.

"Nick?" Dean called to the ponytailed pilot.

"What?"

"I've got everything finished up, thought I might go and..."

"Go? It's too early for that. What kind of self respecting boss-tyrant would be if I let you leave now?"

Dean grinned. "The kind that let me do it last Friday, I guess."

She returned the flirty smile, walking over to the workbench. "Friday was different. You had an important meeting with the head mechanic."

"You're the head mechanic. And all my meetings are important." Dean shrugged a shoulder. "If I have to stay maybe I could play twenty questions."

Nick cocked her head at him. "What do you want to know?"

"How did it get to be Nick? Is it Nicole, or Nikki maybe? You don't look like a Nick." He surveyed her five foot one frame, long black hair, and curved figure.

"Can't always look the part, hon, but I'm still me, plus or minus a little axle grease." She pulled the rubber band from her hair, giving it a shake. "Why don't you check your paystub?"

"I already tried that, and it has the hotel manager's name on it. So I'm stuck at just Nick."

"Afraid so. A girl's got to have a few secrets. Now, how about a question for you?"

Dean shook his head no, chuckling. "I said I'd play twenty questions. Never mentioned you playing, so seems like you're stuck with my rules."

"Sassing me now, are you? You'll find I don't get trapped that easily, and I'm not much on rules. You'll have to try harder."

Dean caught one of her hands in his, walking to her apartment with her in tow. "Challenging a Winchester? You just might be out of your league."

"Oh, I doubt that, Dean. I seriously doubt that." An arched eyebrow climbed into raven fringe as she followed him.

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Dean was driving back to the ranch house for dinner, rakish grin plastered on his face and metallica blasting. Nick had an early flight run in the morning, so Dean left early after all. Not before finishing off the plane inspections with an impromptu pilot inspection though. Sam wasn't the only one with a few scratches on his back. _Don't even remember getting all of them... wow, haven't had an afternoon like that in awhile... think I'm gonna eat and then sleep it off..._

His fingers were drumming on the steering wheel when the phone rang. _Probably Sam, he's left me three messges in the last two hours. And he thinks I'm disruptive. _"Hello?'

"Sam ready for the carney circuit yet or you all just playing house, Dean?" the voice on the other end dropped Dean's heart to his feet.

"Kerry."

"None other. You did promise to come see me, gonna hold you to that. But for now, I wanted to let you know I think it's sweet." Honey dripped from her tone.

"Sweet? Care to let me in on the topic? Obviously isn't you." _I am not letting her under my skin._

"Ooh, ouch. Just think Dean, you off going to work, Sam studying, both of you with a girl on your arm. It's apple pie Americana, what can I say? One of those experiences everyone should get in before they die. Maybe right before they die even. Well, I can wait.... A bit. And thanks for getting Sam all better for me, you are just an endless supply of favors. Be a good big brother and tuck him in for me tonight, will ya? Make sure he says all those night-night prayers. He's gonna need 'em."

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Dinner was four hours past stone cold before Dean trusted himself to go back to Gabriella's. He couldn't tell Sam she called.

"Dean, decided to come in at last I see. Who knew outdoor mechanic work had such a demanding night schedule?' Sam seemed content, relaxed.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Nick and I decided to grab a bite."

Sam pulled the edge of Dean's collar aside. "Uh-uh. Of each other apparently."

"Sa-am." Dean rolled his eyes. "It's late anyway; let's get some sleep." Dean started down the hall to the guestroom to discover that Sam's things were across the hall.

"Moving those Dean?" Gabriella asked, watching him shift the duffels.

"There's two beds in here and we're used to sharing. Besides, I can keep a better eye on him in here. He's not well yet."

"You're going to share. In here. I see." Gabriella walked the rest of the way into the room, Sam a few paces behind her. _May as well get this over with._

"Someone will keep an eye on him, Dean," she blushed. "Sam, once you get your guardian angel there to sleep, come on to bed, ok? I'll wait up."

.

TBC

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A/N - Ok, so Sam's starting to get better and the boys are finding ways to, ah, avoid boredom until they can hunt. I don't write romance really (My Name is Jessica being the only exception), so don't worry that this will go too sappy. Just figured if Dean had too much time on his hands and there was a chick around.... As for Sam, all that mucking around in each others heads is bound to break down his reserve with Gabreilla seems to me. The fight with Kerry will come. Anyway, let me know what you think, reviews are better than chocolate cake!


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Sorry this took a few days to post – I got to go on a little vacation! Anyway, back now and I'll be back to quicker posting, probably a chapter a day again. Hope you enjoy it.

CHAPTER 11

Dean crammed the pillow down harder on the back of his own head, then pulled the sheet over the top for good measure. He was laying on his stomach on the antique featherbed, face plastered into the mattress. _So not helping._ Dean had spent a lifetime listening for the slightest sound from Sam, any hint of a nightmare beginning to trouble his sleep, a sigh when he worried, even the little exhaled snort that meant he was angry. The trouble with that sort of vigilance is that it doesn't come with an off switch when you don't need it. And since Sam moved his things into Gabriella's bedroom six nights ago, he definitely didn't need it. _I sure as the world didn't need the crash course in Gabriella's little sounds either. _

Although the pair down the hall finally went to sleep around three, Dean remained awake, wondering how much longer they could stay here. There had been no further threats from Kerry, but he knew that couldn't hold much longer. It was like she was intentionally giving Sam time to recover. Why? He and Sam rarely spent this kind of time in one place. It was over a month now, a month out of what was turning out to be a very short year. It was the most normal slice of life Dean had had since he was four, even considering Sam's injury and ongoing lessons in 'you too can be a psychic 101.' Trouble was, Dean really didn't like normal.

He was still staring at the wood beam ceiling hours later when the sun came up. _Why is it that when I need to go to work, I could sleep for a week. Today, I've got no schedule and I'm up with the damn dawn. I can't even go to Nick's place till she gets back from San Antonio with the next batch of tourist cowboy wannabes. Weird, I stayed over there night before last and I can't remember half of it. Must have been a heck of a night though, I'm still tired. Oh well. If I'm gonna do this domestic bliss shit, may as well do it right._

The sheets landed in a mound as he swung bare feet onto the floor, wincing as he rolled sore shoulders. _What the heck, haven't done anything in forever. Must be stiffening up from sitting around_. A quick shower later and he was out in the kitchen mixing pancake batter. It wasn't quite seven.

Gabriella saw the sunrise too, the first rays turning the pale yellow stucco of her room to a luminescent copper. She carefully extracted her arm from beneath Sam, propping her head with the now bent elbow. She softly brushed his bangs away from his face, not wanting to wake him._ Ohhh Gabby, what have you done? He's not going to stay here with me. He certainly didn't promise he would. I was only supposed to teach him. Not fall for him. Not invite him into my room, or worse my heart._ With a single finger she outlined the bottom of his lip, eliciting a soft smile from the still sleeping Sam. The light glanced across the muscles of his shoulders and back, the faint stubble on the angle of his jaw. _Stupid, stupid Gabby. Wonder if he's got enough of that male stubborn streak to be embarrassed at being called beautiful? How soon are you gonna leave me, Sam Winchester?...._

Sam was working his way back toward consciousness, awareness of the warm hand on his face seeping into his mind. He circled his arm around her waist, pulling her back down beside him and -

"PANCAKES!"

Dean's bellow was possibly audible in the next county, jarring the last cobweb of sleep from Sam's mind. "You gonna sleep all day, Sam?!"

"Yes!" Sam's returning yell down the hallway was only slightly more subtle. None the less, he was sitting at the kitchen table when the first serving went from griddle to plate. _He would have barged in otherwise._

"You did that on purpose!" Sam huffed as he sat down, convinced his brother's interruption was entirely intentional.

"Of course I did, Sam, hard to make breakfast by accident." Dean feigned total innocence, then started to eat. "Want some juice?"

"Um Hmm."

Forks clattered, glasses clacked on the table, Dean kept his mouth mostly shut while he chewed.

"Yours good?"

"Umm hmm."

"Pass the syrup."

"What? Oh, fine."

"Love me some maple syrup."

"Gathered that from the amount on your chin." Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother. "Ok, Dean, as exciting as this mensa audition is, I'm going have to help you out here."

"What gives you the impression I need help, Sammy?"

"You always rely on me to start any serious conversation. When you try to start one, you look like you look now."

"And what look is that?" Dean deftly ignored the fact that he had been trying to steer the conversation.

"The I need help, or possibly prunes, look."

"Prunes, huh, Sam? Knew there was something I forgot to put in your pancakes."

Gabriella chose that moment to appear for the morning, wet hair tucked behind one ear. She picked up a plate and crossed the room to the stove. "Am I interrupting?"

"No." "Yes." Sam and Dean answered together.

She laughed softly, looking from one to the other. "I'm going to be the tie breaker and go for yes, I think." She put the empty plate back down and selected a couple of bananas instead. "I'll just finish getting ready and head out. I've got a few folks to check on over at the national park. Something's going around at the mountain lodge."

Once she was out of earshot, Sam restarted the conversation. "So what's on your mind Dean?"

"Nothin' Sam. I don't want you to go all chick-flick on me, but I need to know what's going on with you."

Sam pulled his eyebrows together. "What do you mean?"

"Shit Sam, where to start. Uh, shacked up with Gabriella? Vision lessons? Demons? Talked to Bobby lately? Any of that familiar?'

"You don't need to ask me if I can hunt again." Sam's voice hardened ever so slightly.

"Well, I'm asking. That cast comes off your arm in two days. It's been Two weeks since you mentioned anything about how these lessons of yours are going, or since you asked me how planning with Bobby is coming along. It's not like you Sam. So, you gonna help me make take out the bitch that did this to you, or you gonna stay here play Ozzie and Harriet?"

Sam dipped his chin, steepled fingers taping his upper lip as he pushed his chair away from the table. "Didn't realize you were mad at me Dean." He shook his head, then let out a long breath, forcibly changing his mood. "Hey, never mind that. You're right. I'm ready to go get this thing. As for the lessons, I can turn a vision off Dean, but that's all I've been doing for days now."

Dean looked up sharply at Sam. "Maybe that's all you're supposed to do. Have a choice about the visions. Maybe the other stuff doesn't matter."

Sam sighed again."That's not what I meant. It's not the only thing I've learned." _Just the only one I haven't scared myself with. _"I meant keeping the visions shut down has been a full time job this week. As soon as I feel that first twinge of a headache, I can close it out, but it must happen forty times a day. It feels like I'm about to remember something, it's right on the tip of my tongue."

"Remember something? All your visions have been of the future, not the past. Why would a memory start off with that headache?" Dean questioned.

"This feels more like a memory. I can't explain it any better, sorry."

Dean stood and began to clear the table, surprised when he had to grab the edge for balance.

The wobble didn't go unnoticed. "Dean? You ok?"

"M'fine."

"Yeah, 'cause you about fell over and you always do that when you're fine. Now what's wrong with you?"

_Wish I knew…. Without that table I would have fallen… getting dizzier by the day and I'm flat exhausted… "_Nothin', Sam. Jeeze, probably a lack of sleep from living with you two."

Sam reached out a hand, then dropped it halfway to his brother once he spotted Dean's expression, deciding to drop the topic as well, for now. "Ok, whatever."

"So what about Gabriella? You falling for this girl Sammy?"

"A summer fling," left Sam's lips, but the answer Dean saw in his eyes was something else entirely. "Besides, you think I don't notice how long you stay at work with Nick to tune up a couple of golf carts?"

"Not the same. Nick's the perfect girl for me Sam, strictly out for a little fun. And she knows fun when she finds it." Dean gave a particularly suggestive smirk. "Seriously, I wasn't trying to sound angry. We just need to tidy up this wee epic battle with evil problem, and I'm sorta on a schedule here. But next summer, after I'm, well ... I'm just saying that if Gabriella makes you happy, you should think about coming back here, ok?"

Sam realized what Dean meant with a sickening jolt. "There's not going to be an after, Dean, that's not happening," he said softly. _How can almost three months be gone so soon?_

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Bobby called mid afternoon, a growling undertone evident. "Dean, you boys are out of time. Demon signs are starting to crop again, all over Texas and New Mexico."

"I know Bobby, I've been looking at the same thing all day. Kerry's the key to this somehow, I can feel it. Sam thinks she's gathering all the demons that escaped from the gate, trying to subvert the army for her own ends."

"He ready for this?"

"Yeah, I talked to him this morning. I'm sure he's ready. Like pretty sure." Dean ran a hand through his hair. Bobby was one of the few people who understood how much Dean's ferocity in a fight depended on Sam. "You coming this way?"

"Yeah, I'm in the truck now. Ah, so you know, Gabriella's not going to be all that happy to see me. Her Dad and I, well...."

"I kind of figured there was a story there. She wasn't all that wild about me first day here hard as that is to believe. The girl has no taste, thought I might look better ventilated. Of course she's pretty much started a fan club now." Dean's smile came through the phone line. "You going connect the dots for me about her uncle? And why you didn't warn me?"

"Another time Dean. We've got enough dots to connect in the present. I'll be there by sun up."

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Gabriella returned late from the mountains and sank into the first chair she passed, turning a wan smile on Sam when he came to meet her.

"You look tired," he said, sitting on the chair arm and once again undoing the clip in her hair.

"That's what I like about you, Sam, you're such a flatterer." She yawned and pulled her fingers through a few tangles in her long curls. "I'm not sure what's going on up at the lodge. If it was one person, I'd say it was a panic attack, but half the guests freaking out? Contagious anxiety, perfect, exactly what the medical world needs." She abandoned the chair for the familiar comfort of pacing. "Anyway, I am tired. Why don't we just try the piano exercise again and then call it a day?"

"Ok." Sam went to sit on the piano bench, Gabriella standing behind him, a hand on each shoulder. Sam closed his eyes, thinking about the five line melody they'd been practicing all week. The tempo was half of what it should be, but notes began to play.

Dean slipped into the room unseen, leaning to rest against the rough oak doorframe. He wasn't sure which unnerved him more - Sam playing an instrument he knew nothing about without touching it, or that Gabriella had picked ragtime.

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"NO!"

"Dean!"

Dean startled out of sleep, hearing both Sam's yell and Gabriella calling his name at the same time. He ran the length of the hall to find Gabriella standing in the bedroom doorway in her nightgown, staring at Sam. Whatever Sam may or may not have been staring at, he didn't see it. He was panting, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead, sheets clenched in tight fists.

Gabriella grunted slightly as Dean's shouldered her aside and bulled into the room. "Sam, you ok? Sam?"

Sam's chin gave a fraction of a nod, so Dean turned back to Gabriella. "How'd this start? Was he asleep? Frankly he's overdue for a nightmare..."

"He wasn't sleeping." Gabriella crossed the room and retrieved her robe. "We were talking about," she took a deep breath, "about Kerry and then he suddenly stopped, started rubbing the bridge of his nose, muttering something about letting it run this time. Then I couldn't get him to talk to me. Dean, I put a hand on him to see what was happening and it felt like my head was going to explode. I couldn't see a thing, but I heard him screaming in there over and over."

"Damn." Dean's fingers were laced together on top of his head.

"What?" Gabriella sat down on the far edge of the bed.

"I pushed him too far. I was goading him this morning about confronting Kerry, guess that's what he decided to do."

Dean eased on to the edge of the bed, unsure if Sam even recognized him.

"Sammy?" He tapped his brother on the shoulder. "You with me, Sam?"

"Gabriella, do you mind getting him a glass of water or something?"

"Course I don't mind, but I'm not sure that's going to help. Maybe I need to get him back into the clinic?"

"Not yet." Dean took the water glass, on the verge of dumping it over Sam's head before he finally got him to take a sip. "That's it Sam. What made you think it was a good idea to let that bitch in your head, huh?"

"Needed to. Remember now." Sam shakily joined the conversation, trying to fake an appearance of calm.

Dean noted the effort that was costing Sam. "Remember what?"

"Those three days with Kerry, what she wanted to show me, what she did." Sam still looked pale, but at least he was talking.

Dean's throat went dry. "You remember her hurting you, Sammy?" _Please say no. _

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, the smell of his own seared flesh assaulting him. "Everything."

Dean took a minute to squelch his stomach, steady his voice into something matter-of-fact. "I went back to the room after, Sam. The blood on the bed, the cracks in the walls, the plaster, even the floor was split. What the hell did she do?"

"She didn't do that part, Dean. I did." Sam looked up at both of them, fear lighting the depth of his eyes.

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A/N - I split this chap in half to get this much posted now as it was getting long anyway, I'll go polish up the rest. Meanwhile, let me know what you think, it makes my evening and keeps my nose to the proverbial grindstone, lol...


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

"Sam? Sammy?!" Dean caught his brother's arm as he swatted out at something only he could see, then fought down a flash of panic as his eyes rolled back. "Do you hear me, Sam?!"

.

"_Ooooh, good boy, Sam. You are a quick study. Two more doors to learn, that's all, only hurts a little, sugar."_

_  
__ "No, don't touch me. No! Get your hands off….. NO!" God, my head…. "Dean?! Help me! Dean?? Arghh, what are you doing?! Hurts… Dean!?!"_

"_He doesn't hear you, darlin', may as well pipe down. All this chatter, well it's all in your head, Sam. All big brother over there sees is you having a nice little nap. Oh, and me slitting your throat, but no need to think about that. Focus on the positive, I always say. He is so cute when he's angry, don't you think? Makes those charming little freckles stand out. I might just have to taste every last one…."_

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"_Sorry, Sam, got lost in my train of thought there for a moment. And I left you bleeding too, how rude of me. Tell you what, why I don't I eliminate that whole pesky sibling problem and he won't distract us anymore."_

"_No, no! Don't you touch him! Dean? DEAN?! Where is he? What did you do?"_

"_Shhh, there, Sammy, don't fret. Dean's all gone now, problem solved. Now where were we? Ah yes, the doors. Four down, two to go… Just forget everything else, hon, that's it…."_

"_Wh-what? D-Dean? De….D..? What? Wait, I was calling for…."_

"_Shhhh, Sam."_

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"_No, I need … I need…. I.."_

"_Shhh, Sammy. Who do you need? Hmmm?"_

"_You did s-something… I c-can't….remember….his n-name…."_

"_Who, sugar?"_

"_I d-don't know… Arhggg, shit! Why did you…?"_

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"_Tsk, Sam, pay attention. You have the most lovely blood. Not everyone does you know, that demon touch gives it that extra little something. Warm, too, where it trails… I think if I can just slip my fingernail under.. ahh yes, there we go. That's one of the advantages of a well muscled back; a claw will slide right along those planes. Oh, you flinched, sugar. Do try not to do that, I'd hate to slice anything you really need. You feel so much better now that my fingers can really touch you, shame you humans insist on keeping so much skin over yourselves. Muscle has the most delightful texture without all that wrapping paper in the way…."_

"_H-hurts. W-why…."_

"_Are you panting, love? How absolutely adorable. I'm hurting you, huh? You're giving a girl ideas, not sure all of them are even legal. That's your own fault, you know. I told you this is all in your head; all you have to do is decide to give in. Six gates, Sam, that's all. Each one with a pattern you know, you've always known, let yourself find it. Shame you don't remember this is the fifth time we've done this so far, cause I've gotta tell ya sugar, I'm running out of fresh spots to carve up. Pity pain's the only thing that seems to make you focus. Almost as much of a pity as that idiot brother of mine sealing the gates in the minds of babes. Maybe if we start up under the ribs next, hmm?"_

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"_Nn- no… can't…..Oh God, s-stop…"_

"_Shh, hon, it's ok. That's a good boy, ride it out. Pain is a wonderful tool, lets those barriers in your head down… almost there, Sam, almost,… Yes! You did it! That's five. Should we take a break you think? Nah, only one more; I say we go for it. One more good slash across the chest ought to do it…."_

"_Slash-h?"_

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"_Really, Samuel, this tendency of yours to forget what's going on after each one of these is annoying. I'm helping you get rid of those bothersome walls in your head, and this persistence you have in trying to die is uncalled for."_

"_N-n-not trying to d-die. I h-hurt."_

"_Oh well, yes, about that. You don't seem to be listening very well; you really are being a dimwit. I simply had to get your attention somehow. If you'll just be still and think we can have this all over with."_

"_Dark.."_

"_For goodness sake, Sam, it's not dark. We've been through this. You're asleep. I put you to sleep. We're in your motel and you're in bed and I'm slicing you skin away an inch at a time because you are too damn stubborn to finish this up. You have taken up a day of my valuable time, so if you would kindly figure out how to open that last door, I'll let be on my way."_

"_You'll g-go?"_

"_Sure, love, I'm a busy gal. Oh, we'll play a little first; I told somebody it'd be fun to corrupt you and I want to prove my point, but I've got places to be. Don't go getting all lonesome on me, though, I'll be back. So, if we could move this along, that'd be great."_

"_Told who?"_

"_Just somebody you used to know. He's not important now. Think, Sam."_

"_No."_

"_What, you getting tired of being flayed? Maybe if I dig a bit deeper. Ooh, that's nice right there. You hear that? Think we've hit your shoulder blade, love that raspy scrape bones make, don't you? I told you.."_

"_No. I won't."_

"_Now is not the time to remember you have a backbone, love. Finish it."_

"_No. I. Will. Not."_

"_Well, damn. You knocked the wrong wall there, sugar…."_

.

.

"Sam? Scarin' me here, kiddo. Wake up."

Gabriella circled the bed to kneel by the opposite edge, raising a questioning face at Dean. "I could try again. Try to see what he's thinking."

Dean had a moment's concern for her before turning back to his sibling, taking in the rapid breathing and tightly closed eyes. He gave her a clipped nod. "Yeah, ok."

"Sam, it's just me, ok? It's Gabby. We need you to wake up, honey. Dean's right here, and both of us are starting to get a little worried about you." She brushed her fingers over the back of a clenched fist, struggling to keep a calm sound to her voice as the images from the hotel began to form.

"Gabby? What?" Dean flicked his gaze between the pair, unsure if Gabriella was waking Sam or he was pulling her under.

"Wait a minute, Dean." Her voice had shifted into something distracted, her attention entirely focused on Sam. Several minutes later her eyes fluttered closed even as his opened.

"Sammy? You ok?"

"I'm fine." The tremor in his words undermined the very idea of ok, but how was he supposed to tell his brother that he'd forgotten his name as a demon bitch destroyed defenses he hadn't known were there. Forgotten himself, and remembered something awful. Something that left a quivering in his soul that had expanded into a fearful rage, quaking through the room in a destruction he'd just now realized he caused. His eyes found Gabriella, worry shifting into a small smile when he realized she was merely asleep, exhausted from pulling him from the vision.

"What happened?"

"Sorry. Got a little lost in remembering what happened at the hotel."

"Yeah, I kinda figured that part out. I meant what happened there, Sam?"

"Kerry did a little carving here and there, guess I wasn't a model student."

Dean considered that, noted the way Sam developed a sudden interest in staring at the floor. "That's not all, is it?"

The hazel eyes darted to up for the slightest of seconds, then resumed counting floor planks. "No, no it's not."

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Sun up found the Winchesters around the kitchen table, maps scattered about. Gabriella had finally gone back to bed after four, deciding no amount of waiting was going to get them to follow suit.

"Kerry's still a demon Dean. I don't think we can kill her. We need to focus on trapping her, send her back to hell. That's what I've been researching in the mornings. She's been doing this for millennia. Literally. Someone summons her out of hell for who knows what insane reason and she takes her opportunity. Nudges human factions into wars, feeds off both sides. And this time she's got an army of demons to help that along. She's been steering them, squashing random possessions and mayhem, positioning them where they can do the most damage. That's why the summer's been so quiet. They've been getting ready."

"Laptop didn't tell you all that, college boy." Dean searched Sam's eyes.

"No, guess not." Sam hesitated a minute, then decided to answer the unspoken question. "She thinks I'll help her in the end."

"Why would you help her? Whatever you said earlier, I saw that bed. That was your blood dripping onto the floor Sam, not hers. So you busted up a little furniture. She. was. trying. to. kill. you. You're allowed to be pissed. How could she think you're gonna help her now?" Dean was now pacing about the kitchen, hands scrubbing at his face.

Sam's answer came out in a reluctant whisper. "For you."

That stopped the pacing. "Oh no. No Sam. Don't let her do that to you. Don't make this about me. We trap her, send back where she belongs, track down the fool who set her loose in the first place. We end this. The rest we deal with later."

Sam nodded. "Don't think we need to figure on any fool tracking, though. No one summoned her Dean. Jake opened the door." _ And now I can open some more, no handy dandy colt required...._

"Bitch."

An hour later the location for the trap had been selected, unfortunately close to the mountain lodge, but Sam wouldn't consider anywhere else. "It has to be there, dude."

"Why?" Dean was already frustrated by the feeling Sam was holding out on him. That was annoying in a conversation and deadly in a hunt._ And where is Bobby? First light was two hours ago._

Sam chewed on his bottom lip, considering. "A normal trap, well, may not be enough for something like her. Has to be somewhere she wants to go anyway, a bait she's gonna snap at." He paused again, weighing continuing in his mind. "Did you think that gate in Wyoming is the only one Dean?"

"WHAT?" _Most people run the other way from the gates of hell, Sammy. _"That's what she wanted to show you?!?"

"Yep. Where they all are and how they open." Sam stormed out of the room without another word.

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.

Gabriella nearly plowed Dean over as she came down the hall, finally dressed for work for the day.

"Whoa. Thought I was going to have to send your prince charming in there to kiss you, it's after nine."

"As long as you two saved me some coffee, nine's okay." Gabriella gave him a questioning look. "I thought you were working at the airstrip today?"

"Change of plans. Sam and I have some work of our own to do."

She couldn't miss the curt voice. "You're not taking him after that thing, are you? I know I may have been wrong about some hunters, or at least you, but he's not a hundred percent. Sam has this idea you're out to protect him all the time. This doesn't look like that to me. And what I see in Sam, the soul in there, it isn't meant for battles, Dean."

He gripped both of her arms, staring down into her face. "Think about what you really saw. This is as much a part of Sam now as me. I used to do that to, tell myself that I'd drawn Sam back into hunting, forced him into a fight. I'm sure it's easier for you if I'm the hunter and Sam's not, but you'd be under estimating him. By a lot."

She stood for a minute, watching Dean go out the front door and pop the trunk of the impala . Shrugging her shoulders, she turned to go into the clinic. She could hear Sam in there. Maybe he could explain why his brother had apparently lost his mind.

Or not. "Sam, Dean has this crazy idea that you two are going to..." She stopped mid sentence, taking in the carved expression on Sam's face, the shredded remnants of the cast he and Dean had hastily removed sometime during the night. She'd come to softly reason with gentle man that shared her bed. The warrior standing there reassembling a browning was a stranger.

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There was no way to know how long they might have simply stared at one another, if not for the slow tremble of the floor. Gabriella knew she wasn't capable of that, but Sam was. She'd seen what happened in the motel, whether he chose to share that aloud or not. Then she saw that Sam's eyes had widened as well. The quiver stopped and the silence stretched another moment, only to be broken by Dean slamming the front door and the simultaneous jangle of the phone.

Gabriella answered perfunctorily. "Hi Brandon."

Sam listened to one side of the conversation, trying to piece together the remainder.

"What? Where? No, we only felt it just now. This doesn't happen around here......"

"....The whole lodge. Dear God....."

"......Of course, I'm coming. Let me pack some supplies and we'll meet you there..... Yeah, we can grab shovels......"

She hung up the phone and turned to Sam, stunned look on her face. "I don't understand. There's never been an earthquake here as far as I know, could it have been an explosion maybe?" She was now rapidly shoving equipment into bags, pointing at things for Sam to toss to her. "The valley resort's ok, but the mountain lodge, the ground just opened up, not sure if anyone survived..."

Her voice broke. "Anyway, we need to get up there, and your car's going to be faster."

"No."

She hadn't noticed Dean come into the room behind her, .45 in his waistband, sawed off shotgun in one hand. "We can drive you as far as the lodge, but we can't help there."

"Why not?" Gabriella looked flabbergasted by the refusal.

Dean never looked at her, eyes only on Sam.

"Because that wasn't an earthquake or explosion. Sammy, she's at the gate?"

Sam finished loading his own gun, tucking it into his jeans, before a knife disappeared up a sleeve. "Right, the gate."

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A/N - Ok I know this is a little disjointed, for better or worse that's mainly intentional as it sets up the next few chapters better. More very soon , let me know what you think....


	13. Chapter 13

Had to fix a few spelling errors, so reposting this along with the next Chapter

CHAPTER 13

The tremor wasn't all that noticeable above the vibration of Bobby's old pickup as he pulled into Lajitas. A storm farther north had delayed him most of the night and his sunrise arrival at Gabriella's was now going to be at least midday. He figured he may as well stop in at the resort and put gas in the truck before heading up into the mountains, and it couldn't hurt to clear the air with Brandon either. His hunting days with the Coopers' father and uncle had been a long time ago. He pulled the truck to a stop at the hotel entrance, stepping out into the desert glare refracted in the dust kicked up by his tires. The hotel medical clinic was at the end of a gravel street flanked on both sides by replicated frontier buildings. It didn't look like anyone was here at the moment.

"Hello?" Bobby took off his red ball cap just long enough to run his fingers through his hair, then planted it firmly back down. The fake storefronts were a little creepy to his eye; course fake ghost towns sort of lost some appeal if you'd met the actual ghosts.

"Hello?" He heard the crunch of someone walking up from behind the buildings, a steady pace, no attempt to hide their approach from his practiced ear. Someone small from the sound of it. He shifted his hand away from where it had automatically strayed to the knife hilt at his belt.

"Hey, are you Bobby?" called a petite brunette as she rounded the faux saloon corner. "Dean said you'd be here hours ago."

Humph. Wasn't like Dean to run his mouth like that. "Yeah, ran late. I thought I might see Brandon Cooper first."

"Ya just missed him. I'm Nick, do the flyin' and grease monkey work around here, among other things. Brandon won't be here for a while, but Dean should be back any minute. I was headin' in to put on a pot of Joe. Care to join me while you wait?" Nick motioned over her shoulder to the garage entrance.

"I could go for a cup, I guess. Where'd you say Dean went?" Bobby wasn't sure he liked this girl, but it was easy enough to see why Dean would. _Never had mechanics at my place that looked like that._

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The air in the impala hummed with the silence of three sets of mental checklists careening at breakneck pace, whirring thoughts finally slowing down when they arrived at the Chisos Mountain lodge. Gabriella had alternately glared at both of them since leaving her ranch house, but it wasn't all that effective from the backseat. As soon as Dean's hand found park she was out of the car, trying to spot any lodge guests among the local residents who were sifting through the mess with woefully inadequate hand shovels. The lodge itself was just gone. The beams and red stone of the guest house had disappeared into a crater of the equally red mountain rock, a few feeble upright timbers marking where the building stood only hours before. Even the sounds of the rubble settling and the shovels scraping seemed muted beneath the noon day sun, waiting for a signal that something lived beneath the pile. _Dear God._

She was vaguely aware that Sam was now standing beside her, one hand on her shoulder. She made an effort to quell the shiver she knew he could feel there. _Get it together, Cooper, I'm the doc, remember? _"You really aren't going to help these people?" Her voice was as hushed as the scene.

Sam let his eyes find hers, acknowledging the disaster that was now behind him. "I can't… We can't." _She's never going to understand._ "This isn't an accident or even a natural disaster. If Dean and I don't go now, this is merely going to be the start." Sam tipped her face up with his hands, started to kiss her on the forehead, but she ducked out of his grasp.

"Fine, Sam." She was suddenly angry again, venting her frustration with the entire situation as rapidly as she could in Sam's direction. "All that helping people crap, you had me going pretty good. I was even starting to buy it from Dean. There are people dying under that rock pile. Those are the people that need your help. But Dean's gonna tell you that you've got some damned quest that has to be addressed right now, and you're just going to follow him on your merry way! Fine!" She snatched her medical supply bags off the ground at Sam's feet and stormed off without a backward look.

_At least I'm familiar with pissed off as a coping skill. It's certainly Dean's personal favorite._ Sam shook his head as he climbed back into the car. _She's wrong about Dean, though._ _Walking away from these people is going to tear him inside out._

Dean stood leaning on the driver's side door, watching Gabriella walk away from his brother. "Pretty sure your girlfriend just called me Don Quixote. At least that means you're the friggin' donkey."

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The impala pulled into the airstrip, Dean running a quick inventory of what he wanted to grab through his head.

"Need any help?" Sam's voice had remained subdued since the argument with Gabriella.

"Nah." _Geeze, get dizzy for thirty seconds and the still beat-to-hell kid thinks he should help. Yeah, right._ "I'm gonna grab a pulley and some rope we might use, but I wouldn't have even stopped if it hadn't been on the way." Dean mentally grumbled about the state of the mountain roads. While the site Sam had chosen for the trap was only a few miles from the mountain lodge geographically, no road crested the mountain. The forty mile drive around the base and back up the other side was wasting a lot of time they didn't have.

"Sure." It didn't seem to Sam that this was the time to start a disagreement with his brother, too. "I'll top off the gas tank."

Dean walked around the faded clapboard buildings, heading for the garage, when he caught sight of a dark ponytail swinging as Nick pulled a hanger door closed.

"Hey, Dean. Figured you'd be up at the lodge." Nick uncharacteristically padlocked the hanger door.

"We dropped Gabriella off there, but Sam and I have something to do first. Stopped to borrow a few tools if you don't mind."

"No problem. I was rounding up a few things, too. I bet as the rescue efforts pick up the airstrip will be getting a lot more use than average, want to make sure I'm ready and coordinate everyone coming in or I'd have gone to the lodge myself." Nick raised an inquisitive eyebrow, not sure what she saw behind the green eyes. "What you have to do this morning, kinda important, huh?"

Dean shifted from one foot to another, squelching the beginnings of a headache. "Yeah…. Look, Sam's waiting and I need to get moving…" He scratched a hand through his hair, unsure when the conversation had gotten awkward.

"Sure, hon, snag what you need and I'll pour you a thermos of coffee to take."

"Not sure we have time for the coffee, but thanks." He was already selecting supplies from the shelf.

"Course you do." Nick moved behind him, planting a kiss on the back of his bent neck.

_Hmm, yeah right there, ummm, little left, oh yeah… wait, what the…. _Dean shook his head to clear it, surprised at himself for getting distracted. A low seductive chuckle slipped out before he could stop it, but he managed to get his thoughts back on track. "Umm, definitely don't have time for that…"

She trailed another kiss along his jaw, tracing the corner with her tongue. "Gonna have to make time, sugar."

_Wait…Sam's waiting, and… ummm…..and…..what?......._

TBC

Would love to hear from you...


	14. Chapter 14

A/N - Hey all! Thanks so much for all the reviews on this, it's very encouraging and I appreciate it more than I can say! I've been busier than I like, but I should get to answer them all tonight. Hope you enjoy this.

CHAPTER 14

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"Mind keeping the boots off the bed, cowboy?" The accompanying laugh conveyed implications that made even Dean blush.

Dean reached for the boots in question, not quite sure when he'd shed his shirt. Curiosity on that particular point evaporated with another look at Nick sprawled over the four poster bed in her apartment. Apparently whenever he'd found time to get rid of the button down and t-shirt, she'd had the opportunity to peel out of everything she owned. He sat on the edge of the bed, unlacing the footwear, when he felt her kneel behind him, arms sneaking around his waist. Nimble fingers plucked at the buckle of his belt.

"Need some help?" The words slipped between teeth working their way along the ridge of his shoulder.

"Oh, hell yeah." _Shit, those teeth hurt, uh, hmm, yeah, ok, not in a bad way... ohhhhh yeah…._The jeans joined the boots on the floor as Dean leaned back, rolling over as he tucked Nick beneath him. His back arched as the arms around his waist were replaced by well toned calves, the next long minutes lost in a tumble of kisses, nips, and grunts that were progressively more aggressive.

For all his girl-in-ever-port reputation, Dean really didn't kiss and tell. If he had, though, none of his prior, uh, lady friends would have recognized the feral scene unfolding. This was more battle than sex, on both their parts, a grappling fight leaving the hunter strangely exhausted. He finally collapsed to the tangled sheets, sated, panting his way through what he had just identified as a nose bleed. _Think she hit me…. Damn, know I hit her…_

The wanton images flickered through his mind, dulling awareness of the here and now, but eventually he refocused on the room, revolted to find Nick nestled against him, long tongue lapping at a deep gouge across his chest.

"W-what.." Dean licked his split tip and tried again. "What the hell did you do?"

She surprised him with how easily she deflected his effort to shove her off, low throaty chuckle rumbling free. "Easy, tiger, seems to me you were here too – believe me, I'm not likely to forget. Besides, nothing we haven't done a dozen times already."

"Get off me, bitch."

"Ooh, language, sugar. Good thing that mouth of yours is good for something else…"

His hand gripped around her throat, making a more serious attempt to scramble off the bed. She lazily stopped her roving tongue, one hand grabbing his wrist, the other wandering much lower. "Good, now I've got your attention again. Listen." She leaned forward, lips grazing his ear as she whispered, smiling at the pallor creeping over his face as she spoke, the hatred in his eyes as he nodded.

"Time to go lover boy, we've both got lots to do today." She pulled back on the airstrip coveralls, not bothering with anything beneath. Once she dressed, she turned back to where Dean was zipping his jeans, noting that he was staring at the nightstand. She followed his gaze to the source of interest. A cap. An old, grease stained, red ball cap. Snagging the hat, she tossed it into the corner, planting a soft kiss on his forehead. "Forget, Dean. Forget it all, for now…"

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"DEAN!! What the hell?!?" Sam practically pounced on his brother as he rounded the corner.

"What, Sam? Hell, I can't take a leak and grab some coffee without you getting your panties in a twist?"

An exasperated huff blew chocolate bangs off a sweaty forehead. "As attractive an image as all that is Dean, you've been gone an hour. I turned this place upside down looking for you. Now where the heck did you go?"

"I ran into Nick and got a thermos of coffee, Sam. End of story." Dean held out the shiny metal canister, proof of his statement as far as he was concerned.

"Dean, I'm not kidding. I busted into Nick's apartment thirty minutes ago, went through the hotel, looked through all the hangers. There. Was. No. one. There!"

_But the hanger is locked, Sammy… I met Nick there, she was… was on her way out to…. Uh…. She gave me the coffee…and a….kiss?.... _"Well then you need glasses, Sasquatch, cause I haven't been anywhere but here. Now get in the car."

Sam opened himself up a little, reluctant to reach into Gabriella's bag of tricks where Dean was concerned. It was enough to realize that Dean was lying, and more importantly that his brother didn't know it. Dean didn't even seem to realize his lip was cracked open, or his shirt was half undone. _Crap, what happened to him?_ Sam could hear John's voice playing in his head, warning the pair of them never to go into a hunt with a mystery, or with a doubt between the two of them. Unfortunately, they'd already lost an hour on a very tight timetable and this was one hunt that wouldn't wait for another day. Not without devastating consequences.

"Yeah, ok, Dean. Maybe I missed you somehow. Let's go." _Not like I never ignored Dad's advice before…._

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"Ok, run this one more time, Sam." Dean was once again driving toward the selected site for the Devil's trap, radio turned off in favor of giving their plan a final once over.

"Trap needs to be right outside the Hell's gate. Kerry wants that open, so that's where she's gonna go. I think she flattened the lodge just to make sure she had our attention, be sure we'd show up." Sam ran a hand across his mouth. "Trick is going to be getting the trap done before she shows up."

"You sure she can't just open the gate?" Dean took a closer look at Sam.

"I'm sure. No full blooded demon can, sort of defeats the purpose of locking them in, you know? As long as we can get her in the trap we're good to go. If we can't, then she's going to want me to open the gate. At least it gives us a bargaining chip. I think she may be limited in how many things she can control at once, that'll work in our favor, too."

"Could be. She obviously enjoys games, but she didn't wake you up at the motel." Dean scratched fingers over his head. "You think the ritual she was performing and keeping me under control was enough to keep her occupied without throwing you into the mix?"

"Hope so." _If she can handle us both at once we're beyond screwed…_

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Dean was the first one out of the impala when they stopped again, quickly unloading weaponry from the trunk and alternately tucking it into his backpack or tossing it across to Sam. Sam practically had his head inside his own pack as he snagged the airborne items without looking up, infinitely familiar with his brother's patterns.

"How far?" Dean was tucking a second flask of holy water into a pocket already occupied with the smallest of the three knives he was carrying and assorted spare ammunition. Each of them tucked a handgun into the back of their jeans and had a shotgun in hand. To the uninitiated only a few items would have marked them as anything other than particularly violent stalkers. Of course, there must be stalkers somewhere who like to read latin by candlelight.

Sam refolded the park trail map before answering. "Third of the mile up this trail and then about the same distance after we branch off – it's pretty steep though. I'd feel better if Bobby had made it here. He's a good six hours late."

Dean nodded, looking up the trail in question. "Doubt there's anything good about it." He shouldered his pack and started to walk, boot prints clearly visible in the dust. "You set?" _May have given up the cane two weeks ago, but he hasn't quite lost that limp…_

Sam didn't answer immediately, earning a concerned glance from Dean. A glance that turned to bafflement as he saw the small velvet bag Sam was holding, drawstring open, contents tipped to the side so he could see in it.

"Huh, oh, yeah, I'm set. Just trying to figure this out. Gabriella tucked it in here as we were leaving, said it was a reminder for luck."

"Looks like a jewelry bag to me." Dean shrugged.

"I think she had some earrings in it in the dresser actually, but that's not what's in it now." Sam wrinkled his nose at items inside. "This is definitely a beef cube and a dropper of wine. This..." He paused to open a tiny plastic bag full of white powder, sniffing it and then dropping it back in the larger pouch, "is flour."

"Beef, wine, and flour. No luck in that I can think of Sam. How mad at you was she, anyway?"

"Medium livid, why?"

"I think she's trying to turn her prince back into a toad." Dean grinned across at Sam, then started up the trailhead again.

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"I'm just saying it can't hurt to have plan B ready." Sam was reviewing details with Dean a final time as they reached branch point to leave the approved hiking trail.

"As I recall, your plan B had a lot to do with you being bait Sam. Didn't particularly like it, not gonna need it, not doing it." Dean looked over his shoulder to flash a cocky grin at his brother. _We are so gonna be on plan Q before this is over, if I can bother to stay on my feet that long. What a stupid time to catch a cold. Nose isn't stuffy, but my head... Hey, quit over thinking. It's a cold, probabl be sneezing by morning..._

They made quick work of the climb, quibbling between relieved and suspicious when there was no sign of Kerry at the summit. Dean surveyed the area, noting the red boulders that had tumbled from the crown of the mountain that loomed another five hundred feet above their heads. Although most of these rocks were a foot or two in diameter and strewn among the larger cacti and ocotillo, there were cube shaped stones the size of a pickup trunk mingled in. Translation, innumerable places to hide. He couldn't help thinking this was some of the most rugged country he'd ever seen. _Some of it might be just as at home on the warmer side of that damned gate. Speaking of which…_

"Here Dean, it's here." Sam's whispered call ended the need for any further speculation on that count as he pointed to a pentagram arranged inside a triangle etched into the rock. Their hike had ended against a vertical cliff face cut into the larger mountain. It was perhaps one hundred feet high and forty feet wide and had resulted from a massive boulder slide, the remnants of which were below. In open country, the only choice was to draw the devil's trap on the ground, which led to the predictable problem of how to keep it hidden. Sam had found an older ritual that suggested the visual trap wasn't needed as long as the form was there. Nothing like a trial-by-fire field test.

Dean was unpacking a silver cup and scrap of parchment; Sam was pulling beeswax tapers from his bag. There really wasn't a way to stay hidden against the rock face, but they stuck to the shadow and worked as quietly as they could. Sam caught a glimpse of the lettering on the parchment - Keres, Badb Catha, Ba, Varengan, Tengu... leave it to a demon to have a list of names as long as your arm.

"Ready?" Dean more mouthed the question at Sam than asked him, offering his brother a short dagger with his right hand and holding out his left.

Sam picked the blade off Dean's palm, but shook his head and reversed it, turning the hilt back to Dean. "My hand, remember? We decided."

Dean grumbled under his breath. "You decided." This unfortunately made some sense as Sam's arm was already injured, but Dean didn't have to like it. He drew the blade across Sam's palm and caught the red drops in the cup, quickly shredding the parchment and dropping it in after.

Sam meanwhile wrapped a length of gauze around the nick in his hand and lit one of the tapers, tipping it to light the parchment when Dean held the cup out to him. As soon as this was reduced to ash, Dean filled the cup with holy water. Each of them dipped the butt end of a taper into the water and began to draw on the flat stone ground outside the gate, weaving a powerful, but nearly invisible trap. As soon as they met at the upper point, the candles were extinguished and they nodded to each other, Dean signaling toward the boulders they planned to wait behind.

Dean settled behind one of the larger rocks, absently rubbing at a stinging in his chest. Nothing better to do for the moment, he finally stretched out the neck of the t shirt and peered in there. A thin red line met his eyes, as well as faint bruises. _What the hell?_

A few hours later Sam shifted his shoulders for the thirtieth time, knowing Dean was doing the same twenty yards to his left, out of sight. The sun was just starting to fade. A few hours ago helicopters had starting passing to the east, so the lodge rescue appeared to be well underway. _Wonder if they found anyone? Wonder how many died while I've been sitting here on the ground doing not a damn thing about it. I'm sorry Gabby. We both are._

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"Come out come out wherever you are!.. Sam!... Dean!.. Time to play!" Kerry was suddenly in the open space cleared by the old rock slide, silhouetted against the sunset, her form again a pretty brunette. The sleeveless black dress she was wearing fluttered about her calves in the faint breeze. "Ah now, you two aren't over there playing buried treasure hunt with the rest of the yokels, are you? I did so want a playmate for the evening." She began to circle closer to the boulders they were waiting behind. "Come on Dean, quick game of hide and seek before bedtime? It's getting dark." She stopped circling and turned 180 degrees to make a direct line for the rock Sam sat behind.

Sam listened to her approach, knowing the longer he could wait to move, the better chance Dean had of circling behind her unseen. He tried to loosen the muscles in legs that had cramped hours ago, clenching and unclenching his fist around the hilt of a silver blade. Research was all well and good, but a month's worth of references that a blessed silver blade might weaken a keres wasn't all that reassuring at the moment. Especially since nothing had remotely suggested there was any way to kill her. If he and Dean could just get at her from opposite directions, hurt her enough to drive her backward into the trap.

Just as she leaned around the boulder, several things happened at once. Sam lunged, a foot and a half taller than she was, and rammed the knife blade to the hilt in the angle formed by the base of her neck and her collarbone. His momentum probably would have knocked them both to the ground had Dean not leapt on her back at the same time, plunging his own blade between ribs. Both wounds literally sizzled with the collision of holy water dipped blades and demon flesh as Kerry dropped to one knee, a low painful hiss escaping her lips.

The scene froze for a split second, then both Winchesters found themselves flailing backward to land on the ground a good ten feet from her. Dean wrenched his blade free as he was flung and managed to hit the ground in a tucked roll, quickly up on his own knees, even if he was swaying. Sam unfortunately hit the stone he'd been behind earlier, newly uncasted arm connecting with a substantial thud, before coming to rest flat on his back. He felt a sadly familiar trail of warm stickiness start to flow inside his sleeve.

Kerry stood, blood running over one shoulder and Sam's knife still grotesquely in place, and smiled. A maniacally eager smile. "Ooh, boys. Was recess a longtime ago? You seem to have forgotten the playground rules. Don't have to fight over me, fellas, I'll share. Have been sharing… Course your foreplay style needs work."

"So not playing, bitch." Dean got to his feet, shifting sideways until she was no longer between him and Sam. "You ok, Sammy?"

"Ummp. Yeah." Sam was rubbing the back of his head with one hand while squinting to refocus his eyes. "Ought to make softer rocks."

"I'll get right on that." Dean spoke to Sam, but kept his eyes on Kerry. Her face was subtly different from their motel encounter, a year or two older, eyes a deep grey instead of brown, same obsidian curtain of long hair. Oddly she felt more familiar. He stepped toward her, trying to gage her reaction. _Need to get her about thirty feet further left. _

Kerry stepped away from Dean, maintaining the distance between them. "Checking on your little brother, aww, that's cute." She glanced back at Sam. "But I really can't have him all banged up in a brawl; I need him to do a little locksmith work for me in a bit." She wrapped her hand around Sam's knife and pulled it free with a squish, trailing her fingers through the blood and then absently nibbling her fingertips in thought. "You on the other hand, Dean, well; I always did like aggressive men. So what do you do when you need some time to yourself with the ladies? Send him out to the movies or something? I'm thinking you've got more of a go to their place system, am I right? My place really isn't convenient though, so, the movies it is."

This made no sense to Dean at all until he heard Sam grunt, the heel of his hand grinding at his own eyes in an expression that went with his most intense visions. _Thought you could stop this now Sam, come on, close her out._ "I've put him to bed with scarier movies than you since he was five. Not gonna bother him." Dean kept up the slow advance toward her, she continued to side step closer to the trap traced onto the stones. _Twenty feet._ Dean took another look at Sam, intending only a quick reassurance that nothing worse than a vision was going on, but was caught off guard by his brother's expression. The blind stare and evident headache were there as usual, but so was the odd little expression Dean had come to associate with Sam and Gabriella's piano playing. _Fifteen feet._ Sam wasn't trying deal with the vision because he was trying to move her feet._ And I think it just might be working, _Dean thought. _Ok, Sam, keep pushing her with the parlor tricks and let me see if I can keep her from noticing._

"So, you said once I did you a favor. Like what?" _Couldn't care less, but maybe talking will distract you._ Dean took another step forward, green eyes boring into hers, trying to soak every ounce of her attention into that gaze, away from the upward crawl of his hand, away from a Sam that wasn't as incapacitated as she thought.

"You haven't guessed? And I thought you boys were supposed to be smart. The deal of course." She sent another grin Dean's way.

"Figured that was too obvious an answer, sweetheart. Or maybe you're just trying to pass yourself off as the sophisticated sort? I expected better." _Five more feet, Sam, keep pushing._

"Not the you dying in a few months part, dolt, although that has its humor value, I suppose. Sorry I won't have a ringside seat for that, sugar. But I meant bringing Sam back into harm's way. Not a big brotherly thing to do, I must admit, but he is going to be so much fun. We'd have lost him forever without you, Dean."

"Can't really be more lost than dead, lady." Dean was trying hard not to let this conversation distract him instead.

"Ohh, but you can! Think about it. Sweet little Sam, before he plugged Jake. Before his head got filled with a demonic how-to book that would impress Attila the Hun. And I did enjoy putting that there, I must say. Leaving my nasty fingerprints all over that pure little brain of his. Too bad Sam never filled you in on all the details of our time together; you don't think a few scratches in a motel room were all I could come up with do you? Doesn't compare to what you've done to him, though. Just where do you think Mr. Innocence over there went when he died in Cold Oak? You kept your promise to Daddy there for a minute, love. Sam was safe from my kind forever behind those pretty pearly gates. Till you and your needy lonesome ass drug him right back here to me. Now even if he dies, no way he gets back there. "

Dean was somersaulting this diatribe in his head. _No. Demons lie. No way a deal with a demon could've yanked Sam out of heaven. Demons lie. Not sure I believe in heaven. But Sam does. Demons lie. No way letting Sam get killed was saving him and bring him back was how I failed him. No way he doesn't still belong in heaven. Someday. A long time from now. Not today. N-not today. Demons lie. _

"Bitch." Dean let out a snarl of frustration and charged her, throwing the knife he had been slowing raising to bury itself in her throat. The follow through of the throw carried him into her, recoiled fist coming up hard under her chin and jamming the knife hilt further in, her blood gurgling around the blade and dripping down into the darkness of the black dress.

"No, Dean, can't let you do that." Her voice now rasped, sounding as if air were leaking from the gaping hole in her throat. The heel of her hand snapped out, connecting with his nose in an upward motion that made the crunching bone feel as if it would come out of the top of his skull. He doubled over as she stepped back far enough to slam a dainty foot into his gut, sending him stumbling backward away from the trap.

_Damn. Shouldn't have lost my temper, Sam almost had her there. _Dean stayed hunched intentionally, hoping she would see it as an opportunity. The second kick came predictably as Dean thought it would, Kerry turning slightly to the right as her left leg snapped up at his jaw. He wrapped both hands around the now vulnerable ankle, jerking upward and rotating the foot out, unceremoniously sending her sprawling.

Sam's shotgun blast hit her halfway through the fall, the rock salt momentarily weakening her further. As soon as her back hit the ground, Sam darted in from the side, using his much larger frame to pin her to the ground, fist connecting with the side of her face in the process. Kerry's face jerked sideways with the blow, the blood from her throat spattering onto Sam as well. Unfortunately the dazed look in her eyes lasted only a second, twisted smile rapidly returning.

Dean stepped around the pair of them, quickly coming around to crouch behind her head, trying to grab the hands she was now using to claw at Sam's face. Her feet were scrambling in the gravel, but she couldn't twist them enough to kick either of them again. Dean's blood dripped from several gouges raked in his own wrists before he managed to capture both of hers, intermingling with the larger font still flowing from his nose. As soon as he had both of her hands in one of his, he started to drag her through the desert dust, back toward the trap they had constructed. He twisted at the knife hilt still lodged in her throat. "You know, the book may say slitting your throat won't actually kill you, but a guy's gotta try, right, 'love'?"

"Didn't take you for the by the book type anyway, Dean." Kerry was still writhing beneath Sam as he shifted his weight off her just enough to let Dean pull, his own boots trying to find purchase in the rocky soil to push her the same direction. All three were panting in what had become a deadly tug of war, the trap no more than a foot away.

TBC

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A/N - reviews, pretty please? I had my doubts with this chapter, let me know.....


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